Safe and Sound
by Madarao The Authoress
Summary: A murder can leave a stark mark on a small town. Even after four years, that mark is still there. The return of a prime suspect causes the spot to fester and burn. But not everyone remembers. Can someone ignorant to the past save someone haunted by it, or does the past damn us all? AU, ShiroIchi, R
1. Hellcoming

A/N: Been a while since I published anything on here. We all have those lows, though, don't we? Anyways. I figured I'd try my hand at a ShiroIchi fic.

Ichigo's family has stayed the same; Masaki is dead, but he has Isshin, Yuzu, and Karin. Shiro- Hichigo Shirosaki, prefers to go by Shiro- has a family now, too: Zangetsu Shirosaki and Shirayuki Shirosaki. For those who don't know, Shirayuki is Rukia's zanpakuto- Sode no Shirayuki. Anything else... you can figure out.

I do NOT own Bleach. If I did, would I be writing FANfition?

Enjoy~ Reviews are much appreciated, thank you~

_**~Hellcoming**_

_Hellcoming: coming home to Hell... or something very near it._

The road was smooth under the wheels of the bus. That didn't make the ride smooth, though. It was bumpiest ride of his life, the window rattling under his forehead and his shoulder bumping against the side. The condition of the road he was on had nothing to do with this; it was the intended destination. Back to his home town, the place his demons had chased him relentlessly from. There was nothing he'd have loved more than to stay far away from it for the rest of his life, however long it may be.

"Hichigo."

Gentle fingers touched his shoulders and he looked up. His mother was in the seat next to him, long white hair falling over her shoulders; he'd gotten his hair color from her, that much was true.

"It'll be okay, you know."

"It'll be the same," he muttered, looking to the window again. He knew his mother meant well, but in a small town, people never forgot. They'd be preparing for the arrival of the Shirosaki family now, seeing as Zangetsu had gone ahead to start getting the furniture moved into their new house. Since their son had been so uncomfortable with the idea of a return, Shirayuki had stayed behind with him for a couple of days. "The same…"

"Now, stop talking like that, young man. We all know there are nice people there. I know it will be different now."

His expression remained deadpan. "Your outlook on life is so bright it's astonishing." His gaze returned to the window. He heard his mother heave a sigh, but she said nothing more. There was something to be grateful for. From a young age, he'd been diagnosed with spasmodic dysphonia; his voice was nearly constantly distorted. He'd learned not to speak.

Hichigo must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, those same gentle hands were shaking him and the light outside of the bus window had dimmed significantly. "Honey, we're here," she said softly, leaning over him so she wouldn't disturb the other sleeping passengers. Not that there were many.

"Yeah. Alright." Though he was still half asleep, the white-haired teen found his way to his feet and grabbed the bag on the floor. As he climbed off of the bus behind his mother, he couldn't help but feel a bit of relief. Not only were there very few people around, but he'd also arrived in time for him to make a stop. It was a little trip that he knew he needed, and he needed to do it as quickly as possible. "Hey… Ma…" he said softly, looking off down the sidewalk. She stopped and looked back at him, whether he saw it or not.

"Just be home before too late, okay? I'll tell your father." Turning, Shirayuki folded her hands over her dress. "Tell him whatever you need to. Maybe then you can breathe easily."

Hichigo doubted it, but he started quietly walking, anyways. Even after four years, he could still find his way easily about the town. His feet carried him without any conscious instructions from his brain. The breeze against his paper-white cheeks was cool, not deflected by the dark sunglasses resting on his nose. Maybe it wasn't too wise to be walking around with sunglasses when there were barely any rays to block, but he'd much prefer limited visibility to risking someone seeing his eyes.

He didn't meet anyone on his way- another thing to be grateful for on this absolutely horrible day. But his luck couldn't last forever. Cemeteries were filled with the dead, their cold breath whispering out over the headstones. Dancing shapes…

The grave he was looking for was nearer the middle of the yard. That was all he could remember, though. Moving one hand, he bumped his sunglasses up to read the names, walking slowly. It took a while, but he found the spirit he was looking for.

_Renji Abarai. _

It had been years since he'd allowed himself to so much as think the name. It caused his breathing to shift, become uneven. The glasses slid off of his nose, held tightly in his hand. "Renji…" he breathed, kneeling down before the grave. "It's Shiro. You remember me…?" He took a breath and looked over the tombstones. The dying sun set the grass aflame. Flames… He closed his eyes slowly; he could see Renji again, hair bright flaming red. His hands tightened in the grass. With that image came more. More that he couldn't handle. Not then and definitely not now. His eyes snapped open, but it was dark now. "I miss you… so much… You shouldn't have left, idiot. I told you not to. Now look what's happened. Look where we are. You never were too bright… Not besides that smile." He reached up, letting his fingers brush over the name etched in stone, the death date. "I want to hate you. For what all of this has put me through. For letting yourself get killed. For… For…"

"Hey!"

His head snapped up at the new voice, the hand that had been against the gravestone scrambling for his glasses. But he couldn't stop the reflex to find who'd called to him, and so his eyes quickly found warm chestnut brown ones. He could see them widen.

"Y-your…" Ichigo Kurosaki stood frozen on the spot. Not for any real reason like meeting a strange man in a cemetery in the middle of the night. The eyes… had surprised him. Bright yellow suns against a night black sky. They were so… unreal. Like something he'd see in a movie. It was an abnormality he'd never seen before, never so much as heard of.

"My _what?" _The tone to his voice was challenging, suggesting he was tired of hearing the comment he knew was about to come out of this stranger's mouth.

Ichigo quickly composed himself. What the hell was he thinking? If he said anything about the guy's eyes, he'd be just as bad as the people who constantly tortured him because of his hair color. It wasn't a _bad _thing to be different. He'd just… been caught off-guard. "Jeans are going to get grass stains if you're not careful," he finally replied simply, eyeing the knees of the stark white pants. It had rained earlier, so they were wet but not stained.

Shiro snorted and slid his glasses up onto his nose again. "Yeah." He was sure that had been what the guy had been thinking; note: sarcasm.

"You're… not from around here, are you?" If he'd seen someone like this around, Ichigo was sure he'd have remembered.

Yellow eyes went back to the gravestone at his feet, and he was quiet for a moment. "Not for a long time." He reached out, brushed pale fingers across the curving top of the stone. "I've got to go." Then he turned, stuffing his hands back in his pockets, and made a hasty escape by dodging between graves, careful not to step on any of them.

Ichigo wanted to stop him, to find out more, but he'd only exchanged a few words with the strange, white-haired teenager, so he stayed put. The last thing he wanted to do was spook someone who already seemed so on-edge.

Curiosity was a beast that was hard to contain. Why had the teen been here to begin with? Everyone knew that Ichigo stopped by the graveyard when he could to visit his mother's grave, but at such late hours, he never met anyone. Quietly, he stepped over to the grave that had held those strange eyes and knelt down. The name wasn't hard to read; the stone looked like new. But who was Renji Abarai…?

The curiosity swelled at the new information. Standing, Ichigo finished the walk to his mother's grave. His visit was shorter than it usually was. Normally, Masaki was the only thing on his mind when he came here. But tonight, he had some digging to do before he could think of anything else.

For the first time in a long time, he ran all the way home, shoved his hand palm-first against his father's face to push off the impending attack, and pounded up the stairs before Yuzu could even tell him she'd held his dinner for him. His backpack bounced once against the bed before thudding to the floor, but he didn't bother to kneel and pick it up again. Instead, he threw himself in his chair, caught the desk edge before the momentum could send him rolling into the wall, and opened up his laptop. As it was starting up, he unzipped his jacket and folded it over the back of his chair, watching the screen.

It seemed forever before his desktop wallpaper made an appearance and he could pull up his internet browser. It took just as long to find something related to the name. It wasn't much. Just a suspisciously vague obituary. Small town news apparently wasn't very important. Besides, it had probably just been something natural; cancer or something. He scrolled through a few more pages of results, but found nothing that would help him.

Still, he made a mental note to inquire his father about it the next morning. He'd have done it right then, but he assumed his father had already gone to bed since he had an early shift at the hospital the next morning. He also wrote down the dates on the obituary so that he'd have something to go on, more than just a name.

And then he gave up, his shoulders sagging in defeat, and turned to his homework.

-xXx-

Shiro was fuming by the time he got home. He hadn't planned on facing anyone here yet, not until tomorrow when he forced into school against his will. It was strange that the orange-haired teen in the cemetery hadn't recognized him, though. He stopped in the door, his temper dropping completely. "Why _didn't _he recognize me…?"

It wasn't that Hichigo was conceited and expected everyone to know him. It was that everyone had known him because he was all over the papers for months. He could see the pictures flare up behind his eyes now; blood leaked in his field of vision and he hissed, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut to clear it away. He tossed the sunglass onto the kitchen counter and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. Sometimes, the urge to simply claw the things out was overwhelming.

"Sweetheart…? Are you okay?" Shirayuki padded over in her slippers, a snow white robe tied tightly around her waist, and reached up to gently close her fingers around her son's wrists, moving his hands from over his eyes. One of her hands moved up to his cheek, trying to soothe him.

"I'm fine, Mom…" His eyes opened, betraying his words as a lie. He knew his mother could see that.

Zangetsu walked into the kitchen behind her. He was still in his scrubs, as he'd been unpacking their things since he'd gotten home from work at the clinic. A quick look was exchanged with his wife. They'd both known that moving back would be incredibly difficult for their son, but they hadn't expected him to be having such a hard time after only arriving. The elder doctor walked over and carefully slid the backpack from his son's shoulder, where it had been flung carelessly. Carefully, he picked the darkly-tinted sunglasses from the counter and slipped them into the side pocket. "I'll show you where your room is and you can get a shower, okay? Some sleep will do you some good." But he knew that sleep tonight was probably going to simply be a desire for Hichigo. Coming back, starting a new school the next day… the teen would be tossing and turning all night; he just knew it.

Shirayuki smiled slightly, stretched up on her toes, and pressed a soft kiss to her son's forehead. "I'll make you some tea, too, okay?" Every time someone in her family was stressed or upset, she made them tea; it was exceedingly calming, both for her because it gave her something to do and for them.

"Alright…" Shiro kissed his mother on the cheek and hugged her tight before he let his father lead him up the stairs. His room was at the far end of the hall, with an adjoining bathroom; he was glad. Maybe now he could suffer his nightmares alone.

One shower and cup of tea later and he was curled up in bed. The blood red letters on the alarm clock across from his face read 11:03. Shiro sighed and nuzzled his nose into the pillow, stark white hair falling over his eyes. His body was tired, but his thoughts were going a mile a minute. If he got any sleep, he'd be one lucky guy; he'd never been a lucky guy.

Renji would tell you that.


	2. Facing Demons

A/N: Well. This would have been up _weeks _ago, had all of my AP teachers not decided that _everything _had to be done these past few weekends. Sorry for the long wait, guys. Seriously. But school does tend to be more important. xD

I own Bleach just as much now as I did during the first chapter, and that is... not at all.

Enjoy~! Reviews are much appreciated, thank you~

_**~Facing Demons**_

Maybe his luck was changing a bit. Hichigo had managed about three or so hours of sleep; it wasn't much, but it was more than he'd prepared himself for. Even falling asleep as he had, when his alarm clock rang, strange eyes snapped open, instantly alert.

"Damn alarm." he muttered sleepily, reaching out and slamming his palm down on it. Looked like he wasn't getting even a few moments of extra sleep. Sighing softly, he kicked his legs over the side of the bed, toes sinking into the beige carpet so that the black of his toenails seemed even bolder.

"Dad's been busy..." The previous night, he hadn't gotten a very good look at the room, but it seemed that his father had tried to keep it arranged much the same as the last: headboard of the bed against the wall opposite the door, nightstand between the side of the bed and the wall, desk against the wall to the other side of the bed, TV against the wall by the foot. The closet was in a different position than he was used to- right beside the door to the bathroom- but all of his clothes were already there, forming a big mass of black and white.

He huffed. It could like home, but that didn't mean it was any less of a hell.

There wasn't much of a difference in his wardrobe, he thought, so he grabbed blindly and put on whatever his hands touched. A look in the mirror and he found himself hoping that all the white wouldn't cause him to stand out too much. The darkest thing about him was his t-shirt, and even that was mostly covered by a stark white jacket.

"I need more color in my wardrobe." Heaving a defeated sigh, he slipped his shoes on, grabbed his backpack, and shuffled downstairs.

Shirayuki looked up when she heard her son come down the stairs; it wasn't difficult to tell which were Hichigo's, seeing as he'd been refusing to pick his feet up properly since he'd learned of the move back here. She greeted him with a smile, as she usually did, and held out an offering of bacon, eggs, and toast. "They're still warm. I had to make more; I barely had enough for your father." When she laughed, it was a light, tinkling sound.

It was nothing like his own hoarse, watered-down tones.

"Thanks, Mom." He took the plate offered to him and flopped down at the bar in front of the stove, stuck the corner of the toast between his teeth. "Dad already left?"

"Just a few minutes ago. Did you need something?"

Shiro watched her tend to the bacon in the frying pan for a moment before shaking his head. "Just wondering."

There was a few minutes of silence between them as he ate. "If you don't leave soon, you'll be late." Shirayuki informed him, eyes on the stove clock.

Biting the end off of a strip of bacon, he cast a look down at his watch. Damn. He needed to leave _now _if he didn't want to have to run. And he _really _didn't feel like running. He shoved another forkful of eggs into his mouth and stood, flinging his backpack over his shoulder and picking up his unfinished piece of bacon. "I'll see you later."

"Be careful! And try to have a good day, okay?"

She was too busy laying a kiss on his cheek and fussing over his jacket hood to hear him mutter a soft, 'Unlikely.'

-xXx-

Not only was he late, but his father had already left. That meant he was getting no answer to go along with his meager breakfast of barely buttered toast, which hung out of his mouth as he raced down the sidewalk. Pulling his jacket on with a backpack on one shoulder was difficult, especially considering that it bounced with every step. After a few moments of trying, he gave up and decided that he'd finish putting it on when he got to the school.

By the time he made it, the courtyard in front of the school was emptying out, all the students heading inside. Ichigo heaved a sigh of relief; even if he wasn't in time to speak with his friends before homeroom, he still wasn't late. He had the chance to murmur a greeting to Rukia as she left her locker and he stepped up to his own. Keigo was slamming around in a locker a few paces down, but he didn't see any of his other friends. It had to have been because he was behind.

Some God was smiling down on him. The lock fell open and he was sliding into his seat when the bell rang. He ran his fingers through his hair, regretting that he'd jerked a comb quickly through it when he caught tangles; it was even more unruly than usual.

The teacher began to call roll, and he just barely hear his own name. He didn't start _really _paying attention until he realized that Chad wasn't present. Turning in his seat, he looked back.

"Hichigo Shirosaki?"

Ichigo was startled by the name. It was new, hadn't been on the roll the previous day.

"Sir." It was the same strange, distorted voice from the previous evening. Except now, it sounded more strained.

Every pair of eyes moved to find the figure, who shrunk lower in his desk. In the light, the teen looked even paler, as if the sun had never once touched his skin. His hair was as pale white as newfallen snow. The sunglasses he'd been fumbling for the previous night were resting comfortably on his nose now.

That wouldn't go over well.

"Mr. Shirosaki, sunglasses are not permitted in the school building."

If the pale boy's eyes had been visible, the whole class would have flinched at the look he was giving Aizen. "Mr. Shirosaki is my father, who you'll have to speak with to get these shades off of my face." He pushed them further up his nose, finally over his eyes. "I'm incredibly sensitive to harsh light." It was a lie, but the people here didn't need to concern themselves with that. Despite that he knew they would.

Ichigo could see Aizen's jaw work, but then the teacher simply said, "Very well. I'll be speaking with your father this evening." He could also hear Hichigo snort a laugh.

This wasn't the first time he'd completely ignored the lesson, especially for this class. It _was _the first time he'd ignored the lesson to focus on another student, though. Hichigo wasn't paying attention, either, he noted. His face was directed to the window on the outer wall of the room, but with his eyes shielded, Ichigo couldn't tell if that's where his gaze was, as well. The other's tongue slipped out and slid along his pale lips. There was something odd about it; from where he was, it looked discolored. It shouldn't have surprised him, considering Hichigo's skin and eyes, but it still did.

Shuuhei Hisagi kicked his shin from across the aisle, tilting his head in Mr. Aizen's direction.

"... Sir?" Ichigo asked dumbly, his expression that of a deer caught in the headlights.

"Your lab report. Do you have it?"

"Oh... Possibly, yeah." The orange-haired teen yanked his backpack from the floor and rifled through the papers there. All eyes were on him as he yanked a stack of stapled papers from a random folder; despite his studiousness, he was very unorganized. It always made students laugh when something like this happened, and he hated it.

Before he even had time to make sure it was the correct papers, Aizen had walked by and snatched the paper up. On his way around, he dropped a book on the new student's desk, causing Shiro to nearly jump out of his skin. Even with the sunglasses, anyone could tell that the excessively pale boy was attempting to murder Aizen with a mere look.

"I took the liberty of putting your name in the front of the book for you." There was something about his tone; something almost... smug and condescending.

Shiro felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he bristled in anger, grabbing the corner of the cover between his finger and thumb and jerking it open. There was his name, in black ink. Above it, in blood red, was Renji's. He took in a deep breath and held it, counted in his head; he reached ten and the anger was boiling hotter in his stomach, making him feel sick. His hands trembled, lungs burning. The breath he'd held hissed from between his teeth.

The chuckle Aizen gave in return pissed him off even more, and he was visibly seething for the rest of the period.

The bell rang. He slammed his arm over his book, jerking it up into his side, and yanked his backpack over one shoulder as he stomped from the room. Shuuhei, who was usually the first out of classes, trailed almost directly behind.

Ichigo thought that Aizen would be one of the best people to question, despite that the guy left a bitter taste in his mouth. When only one or two stragglers were left in the class, he shuffled quietly up to the desk. "Uhm... Mr. Aizen...?"

Those prying eyes lifted to the student. "Can I help you, Mr. Kurosaki?"

"Er, yes, sir. There's... a certain question that's been nagging at me. It's related to any sciences, though." Ichigo knew that Aizen only entertained questions related to college chemistry- his subject, which he thought was far above the heads of juniors in high school. But maybe, since it was after class, he'd answer.

The teacher sighed, closing his eyes as he dropped the papers in his hands onto the desk. "Make it quick."

The allowance shocked him, and he didn't speak for a moment. "O-oh. Uh... Does the name... Renji Abarai... mean anything to you?" He_ really _hoped he wasn't dredging anything up.

But Aizen nodded, and if one looked closely, a slight quirking of his lips was obvious. "It does. Was there anything specific you'd like to know?"

"Just... whatever you can tell me." At this point, whatever he could find out was fine.

"Ah. Renji was a young boy who lived around here for all of his life. He was murdered about four years ago, maybe a little longer. It was a brutal murder; there were many pictures in the paper. It was rumored that he... hung out with the wrong crowd, so to say."

That was something Ichigo hadn't been expecting. The obituary had been vague, but he'd thought it had been something different, not because no one wanted to reread murder details. "D-did they ever catch the killer?"

"There was one suspect. Prime suspect; all evidence point to him, but a little seed of doubt was planted. Why don't you get the old newspapers from the library? I'm sure those could tell you all you need to know." Aizen dismissed, shuffling the papers again.

Knowing that he'd get nothing more from this venture, Ichigo nodded quickly and stepped back. "Yes, sir. I'll do that. Thank you for your help." He didn't wait for any reply. His skin was crawling and his mind was racing, _and _he was about to be late for his next class.

-xXx-

The whole day, Ichigo's mind was on what information he'd gained from Aizen. The pale-skinned new boy had been lost to him since that morning. His curiosity never waned, and so he continued to inconspicuously search.

All that searching finally paid off at the end of the day, when he was stuffing his unneeded school books and binders into his locker. Or, rather, what he was searching for came slamming into the metal a ways down from him; turned out that he didn't have to do anything at all.

Hichigo's head bounced off of the lockers, almost causing him to drop the books in his hand from the shock. For a moment, he couldn't breathe at all. The guy who'd shoved him placed a hand against the lockers by his head and leaned forward, snake-like eyes looking his prey up and down.

"Welcome home, Shiro. Finally worked up the nerve to come back, eh?" Gin sneered in his face, not leaving much room for movement.

Shiro said nothing, as was usual for him, and simply reached up to push the other's arm down. For someone being cornered, he seemed incredibly calm; Ichigo wondered why. He also wondered if he should step in; in fact, he knew that he should.

"Hey. I'm not fucking done talking to you." Gin grabbed the white-haired teen's arm, yanked him back. "It would have been better for you if you'd stayed away."

Again, Shiro tried to walk away. His head ached and he was too tired for this shit.

Just as Ichigo stepped forward, definitely too late, Gin made a grab for Hichigo's face- and, more importantly, the sunglasses there. That seemed to cause something in the new student to snap. He saw a paper-white hand come back, then there was the sound of skin-on-skin as the palm slapped over the center of Ichimaru's face. The sound of his skull cracking against the wall was worse than what Shiro's had made against the lockers. There was no way this would turn out well.

Gin let out an almost reptilian hiss, holding the back of his head. "This how you treated _him _at the end?"

Behind the sunglasses, Shiro's eyes flashed. He growled and flew forward, his nails digging into Gin's neck as he wrapped one hand around it. "Ya don't know what yer talkin' 'bout." His voice was almost inhuman by this point, letting out a loud, angry breath.

The new developments had stopped Ichigo in his tracks, but now he found himself moving forward. "Hichigo!" He took hold of the other's shoulder and yanked him back. "He's not worth it. Just leave him." He tugged insistently on the shoulder until the other looked around at him and Gin slithered free. "Come on."

It took a moment, but then Hichigo let out an annoyed sigh, snatched up the book he'd dropped, and stomped from the school with Ichigo on his heels. He stalked down the sidewalk for a fair amount of time before visibly calming down and slowing his pace.

When he was sure it was safe to speak, Ichigo softly asked, "What was that about?"

"The past." Hichigo's shoulders were slumped, his backpack nearly falling off one.

"Hichigo-"

"-Shiro."

"... What?"

"Everybody calls me Shiro." he replied simply, shrugging carelessly. "Yer... Ichigo, right?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"Why're ya so nice to me, Ichigo?"

The question caught him off-guard. He knew that others weren't very receptive, but he didn't know why. "Well... Why shouldn't I be...?"

_So he really is clueless... _Shiro shook his head. "No reason."

There obviously was a reason, but Ichigo already had enough to push; he decided to let this drop. He noticed that they were walking down his street. "Where do you live, anyways?"

"Couple houses from the end of this street."

He'd seen the moving trucks a few days ago, but not Shiro until last night. "That's not far from my place..."

"Oh? Hm."

It was obvious that Shiro didn't want to talk. They'd made it to Ichigo's house, anyways- which was a relief from the awkwardness. "I'll see you at school tomorrow, Shiro."

"Yeah. Bye." As few words as possible; it sounded rude and he hoped it wasn't taken as so.

Ichigo stepped into the house. It was quiet and empty. If he had his guess, his dad was at work, Karin at soccer practice, and Yuzu at one of her sewing classes. Though he doubted anyone would be home in time to miss him, he scribbled a note to inform his family that he'd be at the library, then turned right back out of the door.

Honestly, he needed a car. He was tired of walking everywhere. Walking to the library took a good twenty minutes, and the sun was beating down on him; it was a miracle his hair wasn't singed. The cool air of the library was a relief. It was an old building; the computers were dinosaurs and there was still a card catalog near the door. There was an old woman behind the desk, her hair white and the glasses on her nose magnifying her eyes greatly. She wore no name tag, so he didn't know what to call her when he asked about the papers. She was very nice when she led him to a back room and showed him a large section full of newspapers.

"Let me know if you need anymore help."

"Thank you, ma'am."

She smiled and gently patted his cheek. "You're welcome, young man."

He heard her talking about 'nice young men' to someone named Howard as she slowly hobbled back to the front desk. Ichigo dropped his backpack on the floor and sat down on top of it, beginning to rifle through the newspapers. His eyes scanned the dates: Four years ago- 2008. Those papers were buried near the bottom of one drawer. Four papers a month. Finding specific months was difficult. He searched and searched, sneezing from dust. Finally, a headline caught his eye.

_Thirteen Year Old Found Brutally Mudered_

He read the first line and knew it was what he was looking for; there was Renji's name in black and white. Settling back as far as he could on his backpack without sliding off and stretching his legs out, he unfolded the paper. The picture that greeted him shocked him more than any of the words he'd read so far.

It was a photo of a dejected-looking boy surrounded by police. Even with the grainy darkness of the photo, he could tell that the boy's hands were restrained behind his back. His lightly-colored clothes were spattered black. But the eyes were what _really _caught his attention.

They were Hichigo's strange eyes.

Now, the question from earlier didn't seem so strange, made a lot more sense. But that didn't seem right. Shiro didn't seem like the type of person to kill a thirteen year old like that, especially when he'd have been about the same age at the time. Of course, Ichigo hadn't known him but for a day and had barely been around him, but he _had _tried to avoid confrontation with Gin... and he'd seemed very jumpy, as well.

The orange-haired teen huffed and straightened the paper again. The article was long but didn't take too long to read. It was mostly details about the finding, condition of the body, and information about Renji himself. There was little about Shiro- he was found with the body, covered in blood, and his relationship with Renji was also described.

It seemed as if they'd been a lot closer than just friends.

After that, Ichigo tucked the paper into his backpack- he didn't think anyone would miss it before he would be able to bring it back- and ran all the way home, gaining strange looks from the small number of people that he passed. Not that he care, really; people could stare all they wanted, because he had well more important things on his mind.

Unfortunately, he'd been wrong. Upon arriving home, he was met with a very worried Isshin Kurosaki. Of course, he didn't understand why his father was so worried. He'd stayed out later than this before, and at least he'd left a note this time!

The elder Kurosaki's attack was fended off easily with one hand. "Dad! What's wrong with you?!" he burst out, and then added in his thoughts, _Besides what usually is, I should say. _

"Ichigo, my son! Daddy was so worried! I've heard the most distressing news!" Isshin wailed, attempting to attack his son with another hug. It was quickly deflected, and Ichigo shoved him back towards a wall.

"What're you going on about? You're so dramatic. Maybe you should have been an actor instead of a doctor, old man." His tone was flat, suggesting that he was completely uninterested in the whole situation. And he was, truly.

"That's just it! Zangetsu- I mean, Dr. Shirosaki- and his family are back in town!"

"... You're just now figuring that out? Dad, Old Man Zangetsu's been here for days. Shiro got here last night." He pulled a juice bottle out of the refrigerator and took a sip.

"I heard you walked home with this Shiro." Isshin's voice was suddenly a lot more serious; it gave Ichigo a pause.

"... Well... yeah... We left around the same time, and we were going the same way, … He's not so bad, Dad."

There was silence for a few minutes as the elder watched his son nervously swirling the juice inside the bottle. "I don't want you around him anymore, Ichigo."

The orange-haired teen stared at him in stunned silence, mouth gaping, for a few moments. "Wha- Dad, why?!" He knew why, but that had been years ago. It was obvious that nothing had come of it, that Shiro was innocent; so why was this a big deal?

"Because I said so; end of story."

Ichigo felt an immense wave of irritation wash over him. "Fine." he snapped, jerking his bag up and storming to his room. He had no intentions of actually _listening _to his father. There was nothing wrong with Shiro, and if he tried, he was sure that the other might warm up to him- if only a little.

The people here just had the wrong idea about Hichigo. He was sure of it. And he was determined to find out what the _right _idea was.


	3. The Right Idea

A/N: Ugh. Been feeling like crap since Wednesday, which means my whole vacation from school has been spent like that. I'm so lucky, in'it?

Things are, I think, going to start picking up after this. Probably... At least with the whole ShiroIchi thing. -shrugs-

Got one review for the last chapter. Definitely discouraging when that happens, ya know. Maybe a few more reviews would encourage me again, yeah?

I don't own Bleach. Seriously.

Enjoy~! I know muh baby did. She's already demanding another chapter. Like... now. xD And she also picked out this chapter title~

_**~The Right Idea**_

Now that the first day was over, it was considerably easier for Shiro to get to sleep at night. It also made it more difficult for him to wake up in the morning. He didn't want to face any of the people here. Especially not _him. _That was the worst part of coming back home. Of course, it wasn't entirely what he'd expected; Ichigo had shaken up that whole idea.

By the time he finally managed to drag his tired, sorry body from the bed, there was only twenty minutes for him to get completely ready. This wasn't too big of a deal, seeing as it had been the case for him at his last school.

He was finished and down the stairs in fifteen, with Jinx circling his feet as he grabbed a bagel. While he stuffed the breakfast in his mouth, he knelt down and gently scratched the small Siamese cat on the top of her head. He did that for a moment before standing again. Might as well not put it off any longer.

Since Shirayuki was nowhere in sight, he huffed a breath. "I'm leaving, Mom! Bye!"

"Oh!" There was the sound of chaos from the laundry room. "Goodbye, sweetie! Have a good day!"

Shiro knew that she meant well with the statement, but every time she said it, it just reminded him that the day couldn't _possibly _be good at all. Cool air brushed across his cheeks; his sunglasses shielded his eyes from the breeze that would dry them out. He stepped down from the front porch and walked across the drive.

He didn't meet anyone for the first part of his journey to the school. It was rather disappointing, he was surprised to find; though he wouldn't admit it, he'd kind of been hoping that he'd meet up with Ichigo. That disappointment quickly turned to dread. Gin Ichimaru, the asshole who'd given him hell the previous afternoon, stood directly in his path. Except, today, he wasn't alone. Kaname Tousen stood with him, as did a couple of other people he didn't quite recognize. His steps faltered slightly. He certainly wasn't comfortable with the possibility of having to face this group. Though he knew it wouldn't help, he side-stepped off of the walk and into the grass to avoid them.

"Hey there, Jack Frost~" one of the guys whose name he didn't know called out.

When he paid them no mind and kept walking, the entire group decided to follow him, much to his dismay.

"You still trying to ignore us, eh?" Gin asked, stepping up right beside him. He looked like he hadn't slept much.

Shiro hoped he'd gotten a concussion to go with those lovely finger-shaped bruises on his neck. He did his best to ignore their constant jabs at him, but he still had quite a short temper, and finally snapped, "Would you just shut the fuck up?"

"Oh-ho-ho! He speaks!"

"Isn't that something? Sounds like he's talking through a glass of water."

It seemed that the two he couldn't name were having the most fun with this. Gin was participating some, but Kaname not at all.

But when Gin stepped in front of him, Shiro stopped in his tracks, watching the other warily. Tousen hadn't moved from his side, and the other two were blocking his escape from the last remaining places. He glared from behind his sunglasses. "Move."

"No can do, pretty boy." Gin smirked at him, making him sick to his stomach. Then the snake-like teen raised a hand and made a gesture to the people surrounding him.

Shiro could feel the others close in tighter around him and he almost forgot that he needed oxygen. He unconsciously hissed at them, his stance becoming more defensive. But he wouldn't have a chance to do anything even if he wanted to, for he suddenly found his wrists crossed behind his back and an arm cutting off his air supply as it hooked around his neck. His leg came up as Gin's fist went back. He was just a bit too late for his foot to make contact before the other's balled up hand slammed into his nose and shattered his sunglasses.

-xXx-

Ichigo purposefully stomped down the stairs at about the same time as his father was sitting down to eat, showing he was still thoroughly irritated with Isshin for forbiding him to have any interaction with Shiro whatsoever. Normally, he wasn't so childish and wouldn't have kicked up such a fuss, but how would the other teen feel if he suddenly began ignoring him? Besides, Ichigo rather liked hanging out with him- and more importantly, learning more about him.

Needless to say, breakfast was awkward and fairly quite. His father tried for conversation, but was largely ignored and the few replies he _did _get were annoyed grunts. The only farewell he got, as well, was the slamming of the front door as his son stomped out. Once on the sidewalk, though, the orange-haired teen slowed, sighed, and began to walk like he had some sense. Of course, he was still upset, but now he had no need to show it.

Chad was back. Keigo was being loud and annoying, as was usual for him. Chizuru was attempting an assault on Orihime's breasts, which Tatsuki was fending off. Rukia and Hanataro were talking between themselves. Ichigo walked up without a word, holding onto his backpack strap with one hand. Rukia looked over.

"Hey." he greeted them, breathing a sigh.

"Did you hear what happened?" the small, black-haired girl asked before anyone could return the greeting.

Ichigo raised a brow. "Uh... no...? I just got here"

"Ichimaru's been going around boasting that he 'taught Shirosaki a lesson.' I'm not sure if it's true; I haven't even seen him. I heard from Momo." She moved an arm from around her books, then pointed across the yard to the petite girl that was talking urgently to Izuru Kira. "She and a few others are spreading it like wildfire. But who knows? It could be something she thought happened, or something that someone came up with." Rukia added quickly when she saw the look on Ichigo's face.

"Have you seen Shiro?" he asked through his teeth.

Rukia shook her head. When he looked to Hanataro, the timid boy quickly shook his head and said, "I'm sure it's just one of their stupid rumors."

Ichigo held so tightly to his backpack strap that his knuckles turned as white as the skin of Shiro himself. Before he could say anything else, though, the bell rang. Everyone started towards the doors. He followed everyone else into the building, his mind elsewhere by now. Getting his things out of his locker and walking to class was done in an almost daze-like state. This time, he sat down in a desk closer to the one Shiro had chosen the previous day; most people kept to their usual seats, but they weren't assigned and the seats in the back were- for the most part- free.

But Hichigo didn't arrive before the bell rang. That was when Ichigo started to worry that the rumors were true. After all, Gin had already gone after the new student; why not a second time?

It wasn't until half a period of worrying had gone by that the door opened and in walked a figure with dark clothes and stark. He handed a slip of paper to the smirking teacher and, ignoring all the stares, walked back to the desk he'd sat in the previous day. Ichigo stared at him, too, and probably for the same reason, but he didn't join in on the whispers.

Shiro's pale face already had dark bruises blossoming on a cheek and over an eye, which surprisingly wasn't covered by the lens of a pair of sunglasses; this was the cause for all the whispering, of course. Their absence was explained by the few small gashes around where the lenses _would _have been; it would appear as if the sunglasses had been broken while he was wearing them. His lip was split and dribbling blood... or maybe that blood was coming from his nose; it was difficult to tell.

Either way, Ichigo felt anger boil in his stomach. Before the other even had a chance to sit down, he was up out of his seat and grabbing Shiro's hand off of the desktop it had just been placed on. He ignored that the other was staring incredulously as he was dragged _right _back out of the room. Neither even had the mind to wonder why Aizen said nothing.

"What the hell're ya doin'?" Shiro asked, though he didn't jerk his hand away or dig his heels in.

"I'm going to fix your face, idiot."

Hichigo pursed his lips, but he didn't argue, and he allowed himself to be dragged all the way to a sweets shop right off of campus.

"Why're we here?" Wouldn't it have been better- and easier- to have just gone to the school bathroom?

"Couple reasons. I know the girl who's working right now; she won't rat me out to Dad, and she'll let me do what I need to without bugging me. Plus... I hate the school nurse and the school bathroom disgusts me." Ichigo answered, shoving Shiro down into a chair near the counter. "Hey, Neliel!"

A girl with long, sea-green hair popped up from behind the counter and grinned. "Itsugo~! Hi! … Shouldn't you be at school?"

"There was a small... incident. Where's your first-aid?" He knew that Nel kept a well-stocked kit; she was a medical student, after all. The only reason she was here right now was because she worked in her father's shop whenever she was in town.

"Oh, no!" Nel whined as she ducked behind the counter, rummaged for a few minutes, and then tossed a white box to the orange-headed teen. "Did you get in _another _fight?"

Ichigo glared at her. "No. I didn't get in another fight. You know I'll get expelled for it." he muttered, dropping the kit onto the edge of the counter and kneeling down in front of Shiro. "_He_ got in the fight. I'm just helping him out."

The girl leaned on the counter and looked at who was sitting in her chair. "Oh! Hey, Hichigo~!" she greeted enthusiastically, instantly recognizing him.

Shiro looked over, flinching when Ichigo started dabbing at the marks around his eye with a swab. "Hey." he muttered in response. He could remember seeing her around school when he was younger, but she hadn't even been his grade.

Someone who _had _been in his grade, though, sauntered through the door as Ichigo continued to clean him up: Shinji Hirako. Behind him trailed his brothers and sisters- all adopted, of course. He couldn't quite remember all of their names, but he could pick out Hiyori, Mashiro, and Lisa, besides Shinji. Hiyroi and Mashiro had been especially loud; Shinji and Lisa had been in his class. The others- Love, Rose, Kensei, and Hachigen- were all older, so he didn't really know them.

"He-ey~ We heard you were back in town, Shiro, but we thought everybody was just talking." Shinji walked right on over, picking up a chocolate bar as he did so and ripping it open.

"Nope, Shinji. I'm back for good this time." Though he sounded anything but happy about it.

"Ah, come on. Not everyone here is against you, ya know." Lisa spoke up, adjusting her glasses and picking up one of the magazines the shop carried. Per her request, of course.

"Do all of you just skip school all the time?" Neliel asked from behind the counter, leaning into her hand.

"Got a problem with it?" Hiyori snapped, slamming her fist down on the counter top right in front of Nel.

"Nah."

"You and your siblings are our best customers~" Urahara chimed in, poking his head out from the back room. Most of his face was shielded by an open fan.

Shinji put his arm on the back of the chair Shiro was sitting in, took a bite of his candy bar. "Eh, you know, we hate Aizen just as much as you do."

Ichigo carefully wiped the blood from under the other's nose and lip. Therefore, he could see those dark eyes lift up to Shinji.

"I know. But that ain't gonna do nothin', is it?"

"There." Ichigo was pleased with his job of cleaning up Hichigo, so he closed the first-aid kit and handed it back to Neliel. The conversation that was transpiring between Shiro and Shinji, though, made him curious again. Plus, after this, it would easy to bring up the subject and talk about what he'd read the previous day.

Shinji grinned and slapped the white-haired boy hard on the back as he stood up. "Don't let him get you down. He's not worth it."

"Trust me. He won't." Shiro lied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "We should get back, Ichigo..." Even though the _last _thing he wanted was to return to school.

"Yeah." This time, Ichigo didn't grab his hand. He simply walked out of the door with the pale boy close on his heels. But he didn't go back to the school. Not yet, anyways; Ichimaru had thoroughly pissed him off, and being anywhere near the bastard might set him off. Instead, he wandered down the sidewalk. He was surprised when Shiro followed.

"What was that with Shinji? About Aizen...?" he asked softly after a few moments, looking back at the other.

There was no reply for a few moments. Probably wouldn't get an answer... But then, Shiro replied, "Aizen is just... an asshole, is all." It wasn't really the truth, but it was close enough to it.

"So... I heard something yesterday..." Definitely starting off slowly; that was best.

"Did you now?"

"It was about... you..."

That made Shiro stopped. It took a moment before Ichigo actually noticed, and then he stopped, too.

"What did you hear?" Shiro asked, looking at the ground.

"I heard... about Renji..." He could see the other's shoulders tense. "But... I don't remember anything from that time, just so you know. That wasn't too long after my mom was... ah... murdered. So I don't think you killed Renji, Shiro..." he said softly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I... I thought you should know that..."

"... It was _your _mom that was murdered?" Of course, Shiro had heard about that, but he'd never known the family. His dark eyes were on Ichigo now, watching him. "That was why you were in the cemetery, wasn't it...?"

"Yeah... I go to see her a lot... You probably think it's stupid... but it helps to talk to her..."

"Doesn't sound stupid..." Shiro shifted his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. This new information had caused something to start gnawing at his mind. With the murders so close together, it was highly likely that they'd been committed by the same person. And he knew that person. It was a person no one would ever suspect. That was one reason his story had been so disregarded; who would believe a child that had been caught red-handed when he blamed a well-respected man, besides the delinquents and the tortured girl?

… Maybe Ichigo...

"I guess we should get back to school now, Shiro..."

Hichigo swallowed hard and nodded. Actually talking to Ichigo about this would take some time. "Yeah."

Silently, the two walked back to the school building, with Ichigo holding absently to the other's hand. Both had new thoughts worrying at them.


	4. The Truth

A/N: Happy Christmas! (Or Yule, or Kwanza, or whatever you celebrate.) I'm not going to lie. This would not even be finished right now if my lovely girl wasn't sick and I wanted to lift her spirits. So I stayed up way too late on Christmas Eve night to finish this so she would maybe feel better. So please feel better, beautiful. D:

I own Bleach... not at all. Seriously.

Enjoy! Reviews are much appreciated~!

**_~The Truth_**

The next two days passed with no incident, leaving only Friday for things to go downhill again. It very nearly went without any problem at all. Until he passed Aizen's classroom on his way to his locker. Voices and the sound of someone being forced against a whiteboard, the tray for markers and erasers rattling. Ichigo paused a few paces from the door. He knew that he shouldn't, but he just couldn't help it.

Curiosity was going to get him killed one day.

Quietly, he stepped closer to the door pressing his back to the wall. He felt just like one of those people in a bad movie. But as long as his curiosity was sated, he didn't really care whether he looked like an idiot or not.

He could pick Aizen's voice out easily, but he didn't hear anyone else. Vaguely, he thought that this could simply be a phone call that had upset his teacher. Just as he was readying to give up on this venture, he heard Shiro's voice and his attention snapped back. Though he hadn't been paying attention to the words before, he was now.

"You're still just a boy, Hichigo. And, around here, a very... _hated _boy. No one will listen to you." There was such a tone to his voice that it was obvious how much he despised the stark-haired teen; it didn't surprise Ichigo.

"Someone will. Not everyone thinks you're so great, Sosuke." And that was Shiro's distorted voice, spitting the name out as if it were pure venom.

There was silence for a moment; then, "Only the people that matter." The grin was evident even in just Aizen's voice. Shiro hissed and there was more scuffling. Ichigo chanced a peek and immediately wished he hadn't. The white-haired teen was pushed face-first into the whiteboard, with their teacher holding him there. The scuffling was an attempt by the younger of the two to free himself- an attempt that took a moment to work. As he stumbled away, towards the door, Ichigo slid back, holding his breath.

"You're an asshole, Sosuke. Soon enough, everyone's going to see that."

The stomping footfalls coming his way were enough indication that he needed to make himself scarce. He did just that, but only got about halfway down the hall- in the direction he'd come, no less- before he was stopped again by a voice; this time, one that belonged to Shiro.

"You're still here?"

"Yeah..." Around here, everyone cleared out as soon as the bell rang. "I fell asleep in class. I was just coming to my locker."

Shiro watched him for a moment. "Your locker's that way..." A pale thumb indicated the hallway behind him.

Ichigo wanted to slam his head in his locker. When he got there, that was. "Uh... yeah... I know."

A look of suspicion crossed over the paler teen's face, but he decided to just let it go for the time being. "Whatever." With that, he turned and started walking down the hall. Ichigo hurried to catch up.

"You headed straight home today?" he asked casually as he fell into step.

"Yeah. Mom's got something she needs help putting on the wall." It was no wonder that they weren't finished moving in yet, what with his mother's intense love for interior decorating. In fact, she'd been an interior designer in New Jersey, but she planned to fall back into her author's role now that they were back home. It wasn't as if there were homes _here _that needed designing.

"Ah. Well, I guess we'll be walking home together, then."

"Don't we do that every day...?"

"... Yeah... I guess we do..."

And then it got quiet again, as it usually did. The first day, the silence had been awkward. But by now, it was comfortable. This comfortable silence usually lasted the entire walk home.

It seemed today was different.

"You heard that with Aizen, didn't you?" When Ichigo sputtered, Shiro laughed softly. "I'm not an idiot, you know." He looked up and smiled at the orange-haired teen.

The sudden appearance of the smile almost made Ichigo stop on the spot. He couldn't even think to return the smile; the surprised expression might even have been semi-permanent.

That only made Shiro laugh again. The light-heartedness lasted only a moment longer before he sobered up again. "He and I have never gotten along. And I suppose that's an understatement." He looked down at his feet and kicked a small rock across the sidewalk.

"Why?"

"... He always gave me the creeps... Even when I was really little..." The way he said it made it clear that there was more than just that.

"Aizen sets me on edge, too... but no one else really seems bothered by him..." Ichigo paused for a moment, biting his lip. "Well, actually, now that I think about it, Professor Hitsugaya and his teaching assistant, Miss Matsumoto, seem to try to avoid him..." In his past experience- that being speaking with Hitsugaya when faced with a major problem and listening to him teach,- the literature teacher was incredibly insightful, seeing as his profession required it, despite being rather cold towards others.

"They do?" Despite going to all of his classes- as opposed to his first day, when he'd gone to only his first class and skipped out on the rest of the day- he'd made it a point to ignore everyone, so he'd missed any interaction between the faculty members.

"Yeah. Hitsugaya's really cold to Aizen, too- even more so than he is to everyone else."

"... Huh." So maybe it was more than just Shinji and his siblings on his side.

This was followed by more silence.

When they paused in front of his house, Ichigo turned to the other. "Shiro... Can I come over later?" The stark-haired teen stared at him as if he had two heads, prompting him to quickly add, "Just for a little while, until my dad comes back home."

Shiro made a face, considering for a moment, before he slowly nodded his head. "Yeah, okay." There was no doubt in his mind that this wouldn't go well; his mom would freak out about Ichigo coming over. Then she'd dote and he'd want to kill himself. But who knew? Company might be nice. "You'll have to ignore any boxes or messes. We're holding off on unpacking while Mom figures out how she wants everything set up."

Ichigo smiled and nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. My mom liked to rearrange a lot, too..." That was before her death, and of course, nothing have been rearranged since.

"How'd she die, anyways?" Shiro asked hesitantly, watching the other teen.

"Police said it was an accident." From his tone of voice, it was obvious he didn't agree.

"And what do _you _say it was?"

Ichigo though about it for a moment, ran his tongue over his teeth. Should he confide in Shiro...? "... Murder." Weary of the current subject and feeling that familiar pain in his chest, he turned towards his front door. "I'll be over later. An hour sound okay?"

Still dazed by that one word, the pale-skinned boy nodded his head. "Sure. See you then." He watched Ichigo disappear into the house before beginning to shuffle along the sidewalk again. So Renji wasn't the only one? He'd learned that earlier in the week, of course, but there was nothing to link the two. It wasn't even certain that they'd died within a considerable amount of time to each other. So he found himself wondering just when Ichigo's mom had died, but the idea of broaching the subject with the other teen left a bad taste in his mouth. His best bet would be to ask someone else, it seemed...

"Mom!" Hichigo called as he walked into the house, chucking his backpack at a poor, unsuspecting kitchen chair.

"Sweetie! How was your day at school?" Shirayuki hurried into the room, fair hair pulled into a loose bun atop her head and falling around her face. There was paint smeared on her left cheek and spattering her hands, the shorts, and loose tank top she wore.

"Eh, could've gone worse."

"That's great!" At least, it was the best she'd heard all week.

"Hey, Mom... did you know Ichigo Kurosaki's mother?" he asked, hopping up on the counter.

"Masaki? Oh, yes! She and I were great friends!" A sad expression crossed over her face. "It was such a shock when she died..."

"When did she die...?"

"Ah... June 17, 2008."

The date struck Shiro harshly, like a slap across the face. That was three days before Renji had been murdered... What if Ichigo was right...? "Oh. Thanks, Mom. I'm... gonna go upstairs. Ichigo's going to be coming over later."

"You ma-!"

"Please don't. Just... please..." Already, she was clapping her hands together and laughing excitedly. He could see the wheels turning in her head as she thought of what to do to make Ichigo feel at home. Groaning to himself, he made his way up the stairs as quickly as possible.

An hour passes quickly when one falls asleep without meaning to.

Shiro awoke to the sound of knocking on his door, and his eyes cracked open just in time to see his mother poke her head into the room. She smiled when she saw his eyes. "So you're awake now? Ichigo's here." She opened the door wider. There stood Ichigo, a cookie stuffed in his mouth and a mug of tea clutched between his hands.

Looked like Shirayuki had already gotten to him.

"Oh. Hey." he muttered, sitting up on the bed and rubbing the blurriness from his eyes. "Thanks for showing him up here, Mom." There was her hint.

Surprisingly, she just laughed and bowed out gracefully. Ichigo stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and pulling the cookie out of his mouth.

"Your mom's nice." he said, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Shiro snorted and patted the bed beside him, prompting Ichigo to come sit down beside him.

"Want a sip?" the orange-haired teen asked, offering the cup. It was taken after a moment, the paler of the two taking a sip before handing it back.

They listened to music for a while, sprawling out over the bed and talking about random things. Mostly their interests. Ichigo learned that Shiro liked drawing- a lot, apparently- and that he'd gotten the skill to do so from his mother. Shiro learned that Ichigo took martial arts classes; the awards were buried in his closet.

Ichigo was quiet for a moment, then softly asked, "What _was _that with Aizen?" Honestly, he didn't expect an answer, but it couldn't hurt to try. He lifted the cup to his own lips and took a sip of the cooled tea, watching as the other drummed his fingers against his knee.

"... It was about... the past... About Renji, my trial... everything..." Normally, Hichigo would never open up like this. But Ichigo already knew and wasn't judging him. Was silence completely necessary anymore...? "You don't remember it. I... was found with Renji in my arms. He was bloody and dead. The knife was in my hand." It was all very incriminating; even as a thirteen-year-old, he'd known that. He swallowed hard. "But you were right. I didn't do it. Nobody believed me when I told them who actually did." He looked up at Ichigo, as they'd wound up in a position where his head was on the other's stomach, then rolled over so he was propped up on his elbows, staring at the boy leaning against his headboard.

Ichigo reached out, running his fingers absently over the healing split on Shiro's lip. Most of the cuts and bruises were healing nicely, he noted. "So... who did?" He also noticed the wet look to the strange eyes staring at him. But too late, it seemed. The question caused the simple glimmering to well into tears that slipped quickly over pale eyelids.

It was the first time he'd seen so much emotion on the other's face, and it shocked him to the core.

"I didn't do it, Ichigo..." His voice shook with the words. "I could never have killed Renji..."

Sitting up quickly, he pulled the shaking teen up against him. The tears that soaked into his t-shirt went unnoticed.

"I wish that he'd have killed me, too. But no one's ever been that kind to me." he muttered into Ichigo's chest, shoulders shaking. "Aizen, especially."

The orange-haired teen froze at the name. At first, he couldn't believe it... but then he could. Aizen. The bastard had always set him- and others- on edge. There was just something off about him- the way he smiled and the way he did some of the things he did. But he'd never really expected that the teacher was capable of murder.

Still... he _knew _Shiro wasn't.

He moved one hand underneath the other's chin, tilting it back so he could gently wipe away the wet tears with the wrist of his jacket sleeve.

"I believe you."

The attempt to wipe away the tears was quickly proved as futile. Those three little words brought forth more. Ichigo just held him until they slowed, his forehead pressed against Hichigo's and their noses brushing lightly together as he shook his head _just _slightly. His eyes were barely open, but he could tell when the other's slipped closed.

"Don't leave me alone..." the pale teen breathed, his nose sliding against the other's so that their lips pressed together.

And... surprisingly... Ichigo didn't pull away. The heat of the wet lips- they had tears on them- against his own was actually nice. It lasted only a moment, though, before they separated again, one of his hands moving up to brush fingers across a cheek that was flushed from tears.

"I won't."

Dear old dad would just have to be left out of the loop on this one.


	5. Grave Encounters

A/N: I'm just... I'm not even in a good mood right now. You guys know I love to talk to you for a couple lines before the story begins... but I'm just so upset right now that I don't even feel like it.

I don't own Bleach. Unless we're talking about the Clorox kind. I might have some of that.

Enjoy the story, and please review; I love to hear what you have to say.

_**~Grave Encounters**_

Promises weren't something to be taken lightly. At least, not to Ichigo. If he made a promise, keeping it was one of the most important things to him.

So when he told Hichigo that he wouldn't leave him, he'd meant it. And he'd kept his word, as well. They'd wound up falling asleep together the previous night, with the paler teen sprawled out on top of him. He had to admit that it was rather nice... until he realized that the sound of his cell phone ringing had woken him up.

Just as he realized that, dark eyes lifted up to him, blinking sleepily. "Are you gonna answer that...?" As it turned out, Shiro had fallen asleep with his ear pressed to the pocket Ichigo's phone had been in. Just his luck that someone would call when he was in the middle of his first restless sleep in days.

"I guess so..." he muttered, digging his phone out of the inside pocket of his jacket. His first mistake was that he neglected to check the caller ID. The second was that he pressed the phone directly to his ear when he answered. "Hello?"

"_Ichigo! My son, where have you been?! Daddy's been so worried about you! I've called _everyone _to see if they knew where you were, but to no avail! They all had no idea and why didn't you _tell _me that you'd be out?!" _

Ichigo sat up straight, teeth gnashing harshly together as the sounds of his father's screeching practically shattered his right eardrum. He'd jerked it away, of course, but not quickly enough. All hearing in that ear was completely gone; at least for the moment. He pulled the mouthpiece to his lips and snapped, rather loudly, "Thanks, Dad! I wanted hearing aids by the time I was twenty-five, anyways!"

Shiro gazed up at him from his comfortable spot, chin resting on the other teen's stomach and eyes only half open. Even with all of this shouting- for he could hear Isshin over the phone- he felt that he could still fall back to sleep.

It was a long shot, but Ichigo thought that it might be possible for him to convince his father and not get into trouble. There was no way his dad would be okay with him having spent the night over at Hichigo's, but maybe somewhere else... "Dad, I've been over at Keigo's. I told you I was staying over at his place last night. Why didn't you just call me, anyways...?" Of course, he'd never told his father that he'd be going over to Keigo's because that had never been the plan. But he knew his father was usually kicking up such a fuss that he missed whatever his children had to tell him. Most likely, he could trick him into thinking that had been the case.

There was silence on the other end. Then, _"Don't question your father, Ichigo!" _Seemed his idea had worked.

Maybe he didn't question him, but he did roll his eyes pretty hard. "Whatever you say."

"_Now that I've finally found you... I've got to go into work today. Do you think you could take Karin to her soccer game? Yuzu will go along with you."_

Ichigo looked down at Shiro, who looked as if he were half asleep again with his eyes partially closed again, and slowly ran his fingers through the other's hair; the action caused those strange eyes to close completely. "Sure, Dad. What time is her game?"

"_Two o'clock. But you know she'll need to be there earlier than that." _

"Of course I know that. It's not the first time I've taken her to one of her games." He closed his eyes. "Tell her I'll be home about twelve thirty or so to take her."

"_Thanks, Ichigo. I'll tell her." _

"Cool. See ya, Dad." Without waiting from a reply, Ichigo pulled the phone from his ear and pressed his thumb against the button on the screen to end the call, sighing softly and simply dropping the device on the bed. He ran his fingers through the other's hair again, letting his hand slide down so that his palm cupped one cheek. His thumb slipped over a slightly bruised cheekbone. "Sorry that woke you up."

Dark eyes blinked open and looked up at him, a small smile finding its way to Shiro's face. "It's okay. So... you've got to take one of your sisters to a game...?"

"Yeah. Karin plays soccer. Dad's working and can't do it."

The paler of the two thought about that for a moment, letting silence hang between them as Ichigo's thumb continued to slip slowly over his skin. "Can I come with you...?" Today held no other plans for him, besides laying in bed with nothing to do. Ichigo was basically his only friend here; he didn't count Shinji and his siblings as friends.

A smile spread across Ichigo's lips and he leaned forward, kissing the other's forehead. "I'd like it a lot if you did." It wasn't that he didn't like being able to cheer his sister on. It was more that he had no idea how to play soccer; it just looked like a bunch of kids running around kicking a ball into a net to him. Having someone there to watch it with him would be nice.

Hichigo smiled and pressed his hands into the mattress, pushing himself up to brush his lips across the other's. "Then I'll come~"

-xXx-

A few hours later found them strolling along the sidewalk, Ichigo holding loosely to Shiro's hand again, leading the way. It felt natural now, considering he'd been doing it for days; their hands fit nicely together, if he did say so himself.

The car wasn't sitting in the driveway. This meant that his father had already left, and it was safe for them to be seen together. "You want to wait here, or come inside with me?" he asked, starting towards the front door with the other still in tow.

Before an answer could be given, though, the door burst open and out raced Karin, soccer bag in tow. "Come on, Ichigo! I'm going to be late!"

"It's not even one o'clock yet!"

"Exactly! That means I'll be late if we don't hurry!"

Yuzu walked out of the door, closing and locking it behind her; she knew that her older brother had a key. "They're supposed to have a meeting or something right before the game. Not really sure, but she's been rambling about it all morning." After hopping down the steps, she looked up at her older brother and the guy with him, tilting her head. "Who's this...?" Her brother brought his friends around sometimes, but she'd never seen this one.

Ichigo squeezed the hand he held. "This is Hichigo Shirosaki. He moved here at the beginning of the week."

"Oh..." Yuzu smiled up at him. "Hi, Hichigo. I'm Yuzu. It's nice to meet you." She held out a hand to him.

After a moment of hesitation and consideration, he took it and shook it slightly. "Hey..." But he didn't say anything more, because he wasn't really sure what else to say.

"Guys! Time!" Karin called impatiently, frowning.

Putting a hand on his younger sister's back, Ichigo ushered her down the front walk, to where Karin was bouncing restlessly. When they came close to her again, she turned and hurried off down the sidewalk, and Yuzu hurried along after her, calling for her to slow down some.

"Yuzu's really nice..." Shiro said softly, looking over at the orange-haired teen as they followed behind the two girls.

"Yeah. You'll have to meet Karin when she's not about to go to a soccer game. She gets pretty competitive, even before the game, and we all are subject to it."

"Mm, that reminds me of Grimmjow... He didn't like to lose." Grimmjow Jeagerjacques, the blue-haired badass he'd pissed off on his second day at school in New Jersey; the one who'd tried to beat the shit out of him on his third day, and wound up being his best friend by the fourth. Even though he had Ichigo now, he still missed Grimmjow; it wasn't so easy to give up a best friend.

"Grimmjow...?" Ichigo questioned, looking over at the other. That was a name he had _never _heard before.

"He doesn't live here. He was my friend at my other school." Shiro looked down at their twined hands. "He was a major _asshole._"

Smiling slightly, he leaned closer to the other, bumping their shoulders together and letting his lips brush across the other's cheek. "If he was such an asshole, why did you hang out with him?"

"Because... he wasn't an asshole to me... after he beat the shit out of me." Shiro ran a hand through his hair. "It was quite the complicated relationship."

"You just get beat up all the time, don't you...?"

"Well, back there, I could return the favor. I don't need any more hits to my reputation around here. Like these people _need _anymore of a reason to hate me."

Ichigo led the other through the chain link fence surrounding the soccer field, telling his sisters to be careful; he knew that Yuzu liked to stick near Karin before the games, and that she'd be right at the sidelines during it, cheering her sister on.

But he himself liked to hang back a bit more, seeing as he didn't particularly understand soccer. He leaned back against the fence, still holding tightly to the other's hand. "They just don't understand you, Shiro." he told the other softly, looking over at him. "They've just got the wrong idea about you. We've just got to get them to understand that you didn't kill anyone."

Shiro leaned against the fence, as well, close enough to Ichigo that their shoulders were pressed together. "You make it sound so easy."

"Might as well make it sound so if it won't be. Gives a little hope."

Laughing, the pale boy shook his head. "Maybe to you. I gave up on hope a long time ago." He leaned more into the chain fence, leaning his head back. Four years might not seem like such a long time to most people, but for someone like him, it could seem to pass by slowly- eons instead of simple years.

"Don't worry. I'll teach you hope again." Ichigo promised, leaning over to kiss the other's cheek.

If Shiro was prone to blushing, his cheeks would have been as red as a tomato by now. "Ah... I'm going to go to the bathroom... I'll be right back." He gave the other's hand a final squeeze before he let go and walked across the grass to the bathrooms. They were cleaner than he'd expected; that was good, because he could barely stand public restrooms as it was- clean or not. Still, he paused for a moment and took a look around, put off by the idea of using the bathroom in the same place as someone else; not even his parents used his bathroom at home.

The sound of the door opening behind him had him straightening from inspecting a suspicious spot on the wall and turning to see who had followed him in. His heart jumped into his throat, his stomach twisted and flopped, and he was pretty sure his lunch was about to make a reappearance. He swallowed hard, refusing to give the satisfaction of making himself sick over someone like _that. _

Sosuke Aizen stood not far from the door, smirking like he'd just cheated a win in the lottery. "Ah, Hichigo. I didn't expect to see you here. Trying to fit in?" Of course, he'd seen the young Shirosaki boy when he'd entered the field, and the only reason he'd come to the restroom was to follow him.

"Oh, shove it up your ass, Aizen." he snapped, glaring at him.

The only shoving done was Shiro up against the cool tile wall, an arm against his neck and a knee between his thighs to keep him still. Warm fingers ran over his pale cheek and he wished more than anything that he could jerk his head away. But the arm against his throat restricted that movement, because the way he was now was the only position allowing some air. "Now, now, Shirosaki. Watch that pretty little mouth of yours." As he spoke, his fingers moved down, tracing the shape of the pale teen's lips.

His throat burned and he jerked his head, despite having practically no oxygen now. "Fuck off."

"So, I hear you've gotten really close to that Kurosaki kid." Aizen reached up, toying lightly with a small lock of white hair.

Shiro let out a growl, glaring at Aizen out of the corner of his eye. "You leave Ichigo out of this."

"Mm, so it's true." He leaned closer, taking a deep whiff when his nose was close enough to the other's pale neck. "Does he know about your past- what you've done?"

Moving a leg up, he kicked Aizen in the shin, shoving him off. "Of course he knows. He knows _everything._ Stay the fuck away from me, Aizen." he growled, stepping back towards the door. "And stay away from Ichigo, too."

Before Aizen could reply, he slammed his way out of the restroom, running back across the grass to find the other, leaving the laughing teacher behind. He grabbed Ichigo's hands upon finally finding him. "Uh, Ichigo... I've got to go home. Something came up. I'll just call you later, okay? Sorry about this." He leaned up and pressed his lips to the other's to avoid any argument, letting the kiss linger for a few moments. Even when they separated, he stole one more, shorter kiss.

"Uhm... Bye..." Ichigo said to the other's retreating back. No matter what Shiro said, he knew that something more than just with his family was wrong. He looked around for a source... and found it when Aizen stepped from the restrooms. Anger boiled in his stomach, teeth gnashing together harshly. If he didn't have to keep an eye on Yuzu, he'd have been racing after the other.

-xXx-

Not until he was a fair distance from the soccer field did Hichigo finally slow and stop, pulling his collar away from his throat and swallowing threatening bile. That only worked for a moment, though, before he had to turn off of the sidewalk and into the grass. Well, there was his lunch again.

He ran the back of his hand over his lips, coughing and spitting into the grass.

Well. Today couldn't get any worse.


	6. Playing with Fire

A/N: Don't hate me. For realz. I did not mean to be this late updating. When I updated in January, I figured I'd be updating again in February. Well, February sucked ass. No exaggeration. March hasn't been going so well either. I am now single; bad breakup. Apparently a terrible person, too. Whatevs.

Enough of my ranting, lovelies.

I have a feeling that we are nearing the end of this story. There's honestly not much else I can do without boring you so much that your brain melts and oozes from the sockets that your eyes have recently vacated. I already have an idea of how this will end. You will hate me, I'm telling you. :D But yeah. Maybe a couple more chapters. Then that'll be that.

I do not own Bleach. Unless you're talking about the Bleach DVDs and volumes I bought, because I own those.

Enjoooooooy~ Reviews are always appreciated, lovelies~

_**~Playing with Fire**_

Two weeks. Two long, painful, lonely weeks spent mostly in school with his nose stuck in a random binder and his eyes slowly- constantly- drifting to a certain snow-skinned student. Who was completely ignoring him.

Two weeks of avoidance was more than Ichigo could take. The first couple of days had been acceptable; he'd assumed something was wrong and needed a bit of thought. A week was really starting to push it for him, but he let it slide. But two whole weeks? That was the point at which he'd reached the end of his rope, the limit of his patience.

Besides, if he spent any more time at Urahara's, his teeth might just rot out of his mouth, seeing as Nel let him get away with nibbling the candy without paying.

After the final bell rang- finally, the weekend- Ichigo hurried from his physical education class in the gym back to the main building. He knew he'd be able to pass Hichigo's locker on the way to his own, provided that he hurry. Unfortunately, it yet again appeared that he was too late for this particular method to work. That was fine by him.

He shoved all of his books back into his locker and began the trek home with only a notebook, a folder, and some stray sheets of paper stuffed into the depths of the backpack hanging loosely from one shoulder. These walks felt even longer without any company or the rare, idle chitchat. Probably because of how lonely it was now.

By the time he'd made it to the house, he was sure he'd lose his mind from the brash silence. Even the sounds of his knuckles rapping firmly against the smooth, wooden- oak, he thought- door, was a nice change of pace; hearing a cheerful, chiming voice call for him to wait just a moment was even nicer, seeing as it was from another human being. And not just any other human being: Shirayuki, the kindest woman he'd met since his mother's death. So he waited patiently, a hand on his backpack strap, until the door opened to reveal a petite woman with stark white hair, currently spattered with paint. Upon seeing him, a bright smile cracked the paint circle on her right cheek; he couldn't help but smile back.

"Ichigo! I wasn't expecting you to come by! It seems like it's been forever since I last saw you." she exclaimed, stepping aside and gesturing with a roughly tie-dyed towel (it appeared that it had been attacked with paint, as well) for him to step into the kitchen. As soon as he did, she closed the door behind him, wiping her hands on the towel as if it would do something other than smear more paint on her skin.

Two weeks _was _a long time.

"It's nice to see you, too, Mrs. Shirosaki. Is Shiro at home?" The loud music upstairs indicated that he was, indeed, here- it was one of the CDs that they had listened to the night he'd stayed over,- but it was proper to ask and be shown upstairs, as had been done the previous time.

Shirayuki smiled even brighter at the mention of her son. "He's upstairs in his room." she replied, nodding. "I'll show you up." And as she did so, she turned back to look at him, a hand on the stair railing, and said, "Moving back here was awful for Hichigo, but I think you made it a little easier for him. So thank you, Ichigo." Before he could respond, her eyes widened as if a thought had suddenly struck her. "Oh, dear, I'm being so rude! Would you like some tea...?"

Last time, she hadn't even asked; he was glad that she did this time, as he wasn't in the mood for tea and didn't want to waste any. "Uh... no, thank you, ma'am."

"Let me know if you change your mind." she told him, walking up the remainder of the stairs and stopping in front of her son's bedroom door. Reaching up, she tapped her knuckles delicately against the door; somehow, it was loud enough to hear over the music. After a moment, that music's volume decreased, and then the door opened. Hichigo was standing there, wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung white lounge pants, the black ties hanging against the front.

"Ichigo came to visit you again, sweetie! He can stay for dinner, if he likes; your father will be getting off at six, so we'll eat right about then."

"Thanks, Mom." It would have been impossible to sound any _less _exuberant.

"I'll be downstairs if you need me." Shirayuki kissed her son on the cheek before she walked back down the hall and descended the stairs again.

Shiro didn't look up at Ichigo, nor did he move from where he stood. "What're you doing here?"

"I didn't know that I wasn't allowed to come see a friend." At least, some he'd considered a friend a couple of weeks ago. Now, he didn't know what to think. "Even if said friend has been avoiding me for the past two weeks."

Dark, strange eyes flitted to him for a moment and then quickly darted away again as he turned back to his room. But he left the door open. "I haven't been... _avoiding _you, per say..."

"My ass." Ichigo stepped into the bedroom, dropping his backpack as he closed the door. "You walk away from me. Won't even look at me in class. Never speak to me. You won't even _text _me, Shiro." He took a deep breath. "So don't tell me that you're not avoiding me. Just... tell me _why._"

Hichigo plopped down on the edge of his bed, staring at the stereo that was still softly playing. His fingers played nervously between his knees. "It's not like I _want _to avoid you..."

That made Ichigo pause for a moment. Finally, he sat down heavily on the edge of the other's bed. "So why are you, then?"

Eyes cut over to him, almost glaring, from underneath choppy white bangs, and he nearly flinched under the harsh look. "D'ya even need ta ask?" It was obvious by the tone and the lazy shortening of words that there was some irritation there. But not at the strawberry teen sitting beside him. At his reasoning; that it had to even _be _a reason.

Ichigo stared at him, a confused expression on his face. He didn't want to come off as a smartass, but why would he have asked if he didn't need to? "Uhm... yes...?"

"You're an idiot." Shiro muttered, reaching up to brush his fingers lightly over the other's tanned cheek. "My reasons have been the same for the past four years: Aizen, of course."

Another frown tugged downwards on the orange-haired teen's lips. "What does he have to do with you and I?"

Shaking his head, the paler of the two looked away again. "What did he have to do with Renji and I? It only makes sense if you know him more than you should..." He took a deep breath. "What does a jealous child do when another has a toy they want? They smack the other kid and take the toy. That's what Aizen did before. That's what he'll do again."

It didn't take long for Ichigo to work the offered comparison out in his head. He stared with wide eyes at Shiro, trying to come up with something to say. "H-how do you know?"

"Come on, Ichigo. Not all of us are as oblivious as you. I can tell when someone is interested in me. And Aizen has been for a long time." He leaned over on the other, looking up at him. "I couldn't tell way back then, of course, but if I look back now, it's obvious."

"That bastard. I knew there was something off about him." Just by his tone of voice, one could tell that the idea pissed him off.

"Yeah. But it's not like I can do anything about it."

"Why don't you tell someone?!" It seemed so simply to Ichigo. If Aizen was found out, all of this would simply blow over.

"And what would I say? That one of the most respected teachers at the school killed Renji because I like him and he's some pedo-bastard who wants a piece of my underage ass? Yeah, that'll go over really well."

A frown pulled at Ichigo's features. That explained why this problem wasn't already resolved. Aizen's position- and, for that matter, his degree- had everything to do with it; they had been protecting him. No one would have believed a kid on trial over him.

But that didn't mean that Ichigo was going to let him win. "So I'll just have to watch myself. I can take care of myself, Shiro; I'm a big boy now. Yesterday, I even crossed the street for the first time without holding Mommy's hand." he joked lightly, hoping to lighten the mood a little bit. It worked, because the other laughed, though it was somewhat strained.

"I'm not going to put you in danger."

Ichigo rolled his eyes at the other, letting them hand in the air as he thought up a response. "So let me put myself in danger." He pushed Shiro down on the bed, laying on top of him so that their bodies from the chest down were pressed together. "You can't stop me from doing that. And I like you, so that's what I'm going to do. Got me?"

Shirosaki huffed. "Yeah. I got it. Idiot."

"Calling people names isn't nice~ Don't do it anymore." And then, to ensure that he didn't, the orange-haired teen caught his lips. Because of their close proximity, he felt the body beneath him go rigid at the sudden kiss, but it didn't take long for the pale teen to relax underneath him. He had expected much more resistance than what was given to him, to be honest. He wondered if pushing further would cause more resistance. Surprisingly, it didn't; his tongue was welcomed into the other's mouth immediately.

Shiro tasted like tea and sweet spice.

The white-haired teen turned his head to free his lips when he absolutely needed more air, but Ichigo pecked his lips once more before allowing him away. "Will you come over tonight? I've already stayed at your house. It's time for me to return the favor."

"But doesn't your dad hate me?" At the look he was given, Shiro rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Ichigo. I'm not an idiot. Last time you were here, you lied to your dad about where you'd been. Do you really want to deal with that?"

There was a bit of hesitation before, "Of cou-"

"Oh, shut up. No you don't. Let's just go bug Neliel, huh?" He reached up, cupping Ichigo's cheek with his hand. "We can mooch candy off of her and piss Urahara off." It sounded much better than going to Ichigo's house and pissing his dad off with just his mere presence.

Ichigo sighed softly. He despised this; wanting to bring Shiro over to his house and being unable to do so. Still, he leaned down to steal another kiss. "If that's what you want. A walk might be nice." It was sunny and cool outside, with a soft breeze; that's how it had been when he had arrived, at least. And it was perfect weather to walk. He slid off of Shiro and offered a hand to pull the other teen to his feet.

Not long after, the two were strolling down the sidewalk, Ichigo holding tightly to the other's hand. Shiro was still wearing his lounge pants, now with a plain white t-shirt.

"Your face healed really well..." Not a single mark was left as evidence of the vicious attack by Gin and the others. "That's good. It would have been a shame if those bastards had messed up such a pretty face."

Shiro didn't look up at him but reached around to nudge the other's shoulder. "Don't say stupid things like that."

"The truth isn't stupid." They were close to Urahara's shop. Thinking it couldn't hurt, Ichigo cut through backyards, pulling his companion along behind him.

"That's not true! Some truths are stupid as fuck!" the white-haired teen shot back, glancing around the yards they ran through. No one was in them, but lights were on in the windows of some of the houses that they passed. He was just waiting for a face to peek out of one of the ground-floor windows he was staring at; none did.

Ichigo looked back at the other and grinned, biting his lip. "It's so difficult to keep my hands off of you." He just wanted to stop right there in the middle of some stranger's backyard and kiss the pale boy all over. Unfortunately, he did have some sense in his head. Urahara's yard might not have been such a bad option for that, though. All they had to worry about was the creepy, perverted shop owner watching them, and he wasn't sure that he would be bothered by it.

But he had Hichigo's wants to take into consideration, as well.

Even now, as they stepped out of a line of shrubs to the back of Urahara's shop, his boyfriend- was it acceptable to go ahead and start calling him that?- had a light pink dusting on his cheeks. The orange-haired teen decided that he'd like to see that more often.

Knowing that the backdoor was always unlocked during shop hours- Urahara need a quick escape when Tessai tried to make him actually _work- _he went through there. Jinta's broom missed his nose by a hair, and he easily fended off a second attack.

"You're getting better there, Jinta. You almost got me that time." he said, somewhat fondly. The red-headed kid was almost like a little brother to him; their families were so close.

He only got a glare in return. "Oh, shut up, Strawberry." Jinta snapped, swiping at the customer's ankles again.

Ruffling cherry-colored hair, Ichigo bumped the bristles away and laughed. "Is Nel working?" he asked, pulling Shirosaki into his side. The teen was always quiet and uncomfortable, out in public.

"Yeah." The young boy pressed the bristles of the broom to the hardwood floor, splaying them as he leaned into the wooden handle. "But I'd wait a few minutes. She's trying to help Aizen and his kid."

Ichigo wrinkled his nose. "Oh."

Shiro looked up at him. "Aizen has a kid?" When he'd lived here, Aizen had been alone. That had been one of the few things he'd known about the high school teacher.

"Yeah. Gin. He hasn't known they were related for long. His ex-girlfriend never told him that they'd had a kid together; as far as I understand, they were together when they were about our age. She died, and they were stuck together."

"No wonder..." It explained why the snake was how he was.

"But whatever. I'm not going to hide in the back because of the likes of _them._" huffed the orange-headed teen, turning his nose up into the air. Tightening his hold around the other, he stalked towards the front of the store. Hichigo tried to wriggle free, but found himself unable to, and took to muttering.

Upon hearing the soft protests from him, Ichigo rubbed soothing circles at the hollow of the other teen's hip with the tips of his fingers. "Don't worry." he murmured, kissing the top of soft white hair as he stepped through the curtain of beads over the doorway and into the much brighter portion of the shop. They emerged behind the furthest edge of the counter. Neliel was to their left, leaning over the wooden top and irritably explaining something to Aizen, gesturing.

No one noticed them quite at first. Gin was staring off into space while his father and the shop girl spoke. But as Ichigo was pulling his companion around the counter, slitted snake-eyes slid over to them; he felt them, but refused to look over and see them. Judging by the way the body against his own tensed, Shiro had noticed the gaze, too. He paid the snake-boy no mind, instead turning his head to kiss the temple of the pale boy in his arms.

"I'll be with you in a minute, Itsugo!" Nel promised, sounding relieved that she'd have a reason to stop talking to Aizen.

Sosuke's cold eyes jumped over to them, becoming even more frigid at seeing Hichigo with someone else's arm around him. His badgering of Neliel was no longer important. "Come along, Gin. I've business to attend to elsewhere." Without making sure his son was following, the man turned and strode from the shop.

Gin sneered at them as he hurried out after his father.

Ichigo simply smiled and leaned down again, stealing a kiss from the nervously fidgeting boy pressed against his side.

"Ooooo~ Itsugo's got a boooooyfriiiieeend~" Neliel sang, sliding across the counter over to them. And when Shiro glared at her, she just giggled. "Oh, shut up, Shiro-Shiro~!"

-xXx-

Gin could see, even before he'd caught up, that the man was seething. And once he actually did catch up, he could hear him muttering about someone having the audacity to so much as touch _his _Hichigo.

Rolling his eyes, the teen stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking away from his father. "If it pisses you off so bad, then why don't you just stop complaining and _do _something about it?" Honestly, he didn't give a shit if his father was happy or not. The only thing he cared about was Shirosaki's misery.

If it was the last thing he did, he would make sure that Shiro paid for making a fool of him in their first-grade year.

His father's cold, dark eyes cut over to him, and he looked ready to snap at him. But the look quickly dissipated and he smiled instead. "What a wonderful idea, Gin. There's no doubt that you're my son."


	7. He Who Protects

A/N: SORRY IF THIS CHAPTER IS MESSED UP. LIBREOFFICE WAS BEING A BITCH. Tell me if something seems fucked or out of place, or if something seems to be missing, and I'll fix it. THANK YOU~!

Hello, lovely readers~ I should have been in bed hours ago, but I stayed up and wrote this. I also should be working on the week's worth of makeup work I have for school, but writing this was well more important. :D I am fully recovered from my breakup- tch, not even sure it could be called that- and Muse is slowly but steadily working to give me ideas. Unfortunately, someone else in my head is bound to distract him; Searc doesn't like him too much. Neither does Jaii.

Anyways, this chapter is a bit of background, and quite a bit of progress. You get to see more minor characters, and I think everyone will get an idea of what's going to happen and what _has _happened. At least, I hope that's the case.

Anyways. I'm tired as fuck. So I'm going to stop talking there.

I do not own Bleach at all. Thank yoooouuu~

Enjoy! Reviews are greatly appreciated. I like to know what people think, and that makes me like to write more. :D

**Edit: I realized I went stupid in the second paragraph of this chapter. Why am I so stupid? I don't know. But I fixed it. So. Now it's actually enjoyable. xD

_**~He Who Protects**_

Eyes followed them as they walked across the front courtyard of the school, one dragging along his dazed companion. The eyes weren't that of the many students around them; by this point, most people had stopped studying Hichigo Shirosaki's every move, and the fact that he was remaining close to their infamous Strawberry was of little concern. It warranted little gossip, and even less attention, after a few days- and more importantly, a few glares from Ichigo.

The big sources of gossip were the possibility of an ice dragon tattoo racing along the length of Professor Hitsugaya's spine and whether or not Orihime had finally given in to Chizuru's advances. She hadn't, of course. If she had, the whole school would have been forced to deal with Ulquiorra's brooding. It would be even bigger news when it was found out that Shuuhei had no interest in Rukia, but in her older brother; and even then, the Kuchiki girl was breaking rules by becoming involved with a certain nursing assistant- Isane Kotetsu.

High school gossip at its finest.

It would become town gossip soon. Aizen turned from the window in his classroom, sliding his glasses slowly from his nose and placing them on his desk. Two murders in one family was risky, especially with such a time gap in between them. It would make the family seem like a target, slowly being wiped out.

It would also peg his Hichigo with three murders- Masaki Kurosaki, Renji Abarai... Ichigo Kurosaki. But he didn't care about the hell that his little snowflake would be subjected to. If he couldn't have the teen, then no one could; he wouldn't allow it.

The bell's shrill ring shattered the image in his head- Ichigo Kurosaki drowned in a shallow pool of his own blood, just as his mother had been, and finally being able to claim the young Hichigo. At the new thought in his head- this being the agony of a day with all of these snot nosed brats- Aizen scowled and stood from the perch on the edge of his desk, sliding his glasses back on. Cold, narrowed eyes followed each student as they entered the room. Kurosaki and Shiro entered at the same time, and he watched their fingers slip apart as they parted ways. For a moment, he considered glaring at the current bane of his existence, but in the end, the temptation was too great and he simply watched Hichigo walk away from him.

It would all be worth it, once it was done.

-xXx-

It seemed as if Aizen hadn't felt like dealing with them that day, seeing as he gave them work to do in their books and then ignored them for the rest of the period. That was fine by him; he wasn't in the mood to deal with Aizen, either. Now, glaring at him as if the man had hit his dog was an entirely different thing altogether; it was ignoring... angrily. Which, of course, was acceptable.

Especially since cold eyes kept darting up to him, relaying wishes to tear his head off.

Seeing as the feeling was mutual, he didn't mind so much. As if he would ever allow Aizen to lay a hand on Shiro. The man would have to be an idiot to try. Of all the things Aizen was, an idiot wasn't one of them.

Still, it was a relief when the bell rang. More of a relief when he could slip his hand into Hichigo's, feel the warmth of the other's body against his side. It assured him that everything was still fine.

"I'll walk you to class. What do you say?" he asked, scooping up the other teen's books so that he wouldn't have to struggle to pick them up one-handed. He carried around _way _too much.

"Isn't Jeagerjaques' class on the opposite side of the school as Hitsugaya's?" Shiro frowned disapprovingly, making a grab for his things.

Ichigo laughed and pulled them out of the other's reach. "Sure, but Hitsugaya's used to me being late."

Giving up on taking his books back, the white-haired teen simply started walking. If they avoided a fight over the books and left right then, maybe they would both be on time. Making Ichigo late would make him feel guilty. "Why are you always late?"

"Trouble in the halls, mostly. People giving me hell about my hair, ya know." As they passed their teacher, he added, "Get held over by Aizen a lot, too. I get in a lot of trouble this hour." He could see the man twitch, as if he wanted to interject. But he didn't, and Ichigo kept walking, smirking to himself.

"You should really try to stay out of trouble, Ichi..." Shiro absently ran the fingers of his free hand up and down his boyfriend's arm.

Behind them, just as they were exiting the classroom, Aizen growled softly at the nickname his sweet little snowflake used, his grip tightening on the pen he held until it snapped in two. Red ink dribbled over his fingers and splashed in bright crimson circles on his desk. Initially, he'd intended to bide his time, watch the two and see if that no-good Kurosaki was dropped.

But Hichigo was getting way too attached, and he didn't think that he could wait any longer. Not having to watch _that_. It wouldn't be wise to wait, would it?

He would just have to look for the perfect time...

-xXx-

His skin tasted like ink. Teal eyes slid from the words on the page to the thumb he'd licked. His lips turned down in distaste. It had slipped his mind that his favorite pen was leaking, and he'd been having dark purple ink steadily smeared across his fingertips all day.

How unfortunate. It would need to be replaced. Having to scrub the clingy, stubborn ink from his hands ever day wouldn't do. Regardless, there was nothing he could do about it at that particular moment. His niece and teaching assistant, Rangiku Matsumoto, was sitting at the computer desk in the corner of the room, bouncing and humming as she 'graded papers.' Normally, he'd have simply graded them for her, but she'd been working on them all day and was nearly finished. Besides, she needed to learn to honor her commitment, even small ones like completely a stack of ungraded papers. She was a teaching assistant, after all.

Sighing softly, Toushirou turned the page in the law book that currently held his attention. It had been his initial plan to attend law school; he had the temperament and patience to be one of the best. He'd become a teacher in order to stay near Momo Hinamori- the guidance counselor at this school. She loved children, and she loved to _help _children; how she'd wound up in a high school as opposed to an elementary or middle school, he didn't know. But she blossomed her. Of a morning, he would watch her bustling between groups of students in the front courtyard, seeing how they were doing and worrying over any problems she heard.

She was such a worrywart, and yet she never saw that _she _worried _him. _On top of that... her worries kept her from seeing his feelings, despite her ability to read people.

As he was tuning the page again, the door to his classroom creaked open. It was after school hours, but it wasn't uncommon for students to come to speak with him at such times; usually, though, there was a warning. Closing the book on his finger, he leaned forward and looked up.

Hinamori had poked her head into the room and was staring at him, waiting for him to notice her and invite her in.

"Momo, come in. You know you don't have to wait like that." he invited, standing from his desk chair. Rangiku stopped humming, lifting her head to watch as the counselor stepped into the room; her pen was still resting on the half-graded paper.

The door closed with a click behind the dark-headed woman, but her shoes were silent as she traveres the room and perched on the edge of the front middle desk. The look on her face was enough to startle him.

"What's wrong?" Toushirou asked, stepping around his desk to stand in front of his childhood friend.

"I'm worried, Lil' Shirou..." she said softly, fingers fidgeting. It was a moment before she elaborated. After taking a deep breath, she dropped her hands into her lap and looked down at the floor. "Sosuke isn't acting right again... He's become quieter... and colder. Have you noticed anything?"

The white-haired literature teacher frowned deeply, disgust flashing in his eyes. "You know I haven't, Momo."

She sighed softly, shoulders slumping. "Right. You avoid him."

"Can you blame me?! There's something wrong with him." He thought for a moment, back on the da. It wasn't always possible to avoid the other teacher. Perhaps there was something that he had initially missed... "But... Kurosaki was late again. Aizen holds him after class often. It's possible that something happened there. Why don't you ask Ichigo?"

The suggestion was quickly dismissed with a shake of her head. "Yes. I know of Ichigo's discipline problems... but Sosuke never acts this way afterwards; he never lets a student get to him. And I couldn't speak to Ichigo even if I wanted to. I saw him leaving with Hichigo as I was on my way here."

Toushirou froze at the words. His eyes flickered over to Rangiku, but she was visibly trying to stay out of the conversation- for once. Shit. For the first time in his life, he could have used her input. "He left with Mr. Shirosaki, you say...?" He had the pleasure of teaching Shiro, though at a different time than Ichigo. The teen was one of the best he had; quiet, smart, creative. Despite his tendency to slip into a lazy manner of speech when his buttons were pushed; he'd heard it himself, though outside of class. But he knew the student's story. In fact, he knew more than most of the people here believed; none of it was proven, but his theory agreed with what the boy had claimed, years ago.

"Yes... Why?" she asked, giving him a strange look.

"No reason." Toushirou lied quickly, smiling weakly. "I just... didn't peg them as two to become friends." She looked skeptical of his answer, but before she could question it, he moved back to his desk. "I'm sorry, Momo, but I've got to leave. I promised my niece that I'd take her to see Neliel. Rangiku, are you ready?"

The strawberry blond girl looked up abruptly, blinking the clouds from her eyes; she'd been unable to ignore the conversation completely, despite her attempts to do so, and had simply done her best to make it less obvious that she was listening. "Oh, uh... I've got two more papers..."

"Leave them. You can finish grading first thing tomorrow morning. I'd like to get home in time for dinner." he ordered her, pulling his jacket on and grabbing his bag.

Both Rangiku and Momo stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. Leaving work unfinished was something he absolutely despised; to request that it be done was so uncharacteristic. Still, the teaching assistant stood and capped her pen.

"Then, yes, sir." she answered, gathering her things.

The white-haired teacher walked over, back to the student desk, leaning over to hug his childhood friend, kissing her cheek lightly. "I'm really sorry to be leaving so suddenly. Forgive me, Momo?"

"You know I do, Lil' Shirou. I'll call you later tonight." With that, she slid from the desk and exited the room.

He watched her go. Momo walked as if on air, a subtle sway to her hips; it was natural, unlike some women who were blatantly trying too hard. Her ponytail shimmied with each step. It was odd to see her hair like that; always, it was bound in a bun. But he liked it well enough. It allowed more hair loose to play in her face.

"Why don't you just ask her out, Toushirou?" Rangiku asked, bumping him with her hip. Her uncle hated to be called by that particular title; he claimed it made him feel old because she wasn't too much younger than he was.

Toushirou scoffed and hefted his bag up onto his shoulder, pulling his keys from the pocket of his blue jeans. "Don't be ridiculous. She's completely uninterested." he muttered, making to leave the classroom.

"Oh, please. She's totally interested! Besides. Maybe she could lighten you up some!" She laughed, and he growled at her in irritation.

The two were silent until seated in the car.

"Uncle..." He shot a glare at her from the corner of his eye, but she ignored it. "Why are we leaving so early? Without finishing work?"

Without skipping a beat, he replied, "You didn't hear me tell Momo? I promised to take you to see Neliel."

"No, you didn't." she countered immediately, frowning. "You said I could _walk _over to see Nel while _you _finished reading."

"Call it a change of heart." He started the car, hoping that would cut the conversation short.

It didn't.

"Mhm. Now, tell me the truth. Or I'll bug you all night~!"

Obviously, it had been a mistake to let her live with him after her mother's disappearance and her father's suicide.

"Swear to keep your mouth shut?"

"Well... I'll have to tell Nel..."

Toushirou considered that as he pulled from the school parking lot. Nel. She was fine; she could know. Probably already did know. "I fear... that Ichigo Kurosaki might meet the same fate as Renji Abarai..."

"You mean Shiro-!"

"No!" he snapped, before she could even finish. "No. Not Hichigo. It was never him, Rangiku."

Had it been anyone else, she would have never believed it, would have argued it to death. But this was her uncle, Toushirou Hitsugaya, and he never would have confided this in anyone if there was any doubt in his mind. Once he was completely sure of a theory, he was hardly ever wrong. She trusted that he was right now, too. "Then... who?"

"Just who Shirosaki said." The parking lot at Urahara's was practically empty. He parked closest to the door. "Sosuke Aizen."

"But... Mr. Aizen never could have!"

"Why not? He's in the perfect position. His knowledge doesn't cover simply chemistry; he's also incredibly talented in biology. Both of those factor into a murder. And his doctorate serves as a shield. It protects him. No one would suspect that a man with a doctorate, a talented teacher, could be a murderer." He angrily jerked the keys from the ignition. "_That's _how he could get away with ruining that kid's life, and killing another. It's disgusting." People like Aizen were the main reason he'd had ever intention of becoming a lawyer before changing his mind for Momo.

But that didn't mean he was helpless.

He had an out.

"Come on, Rangiku. I've got a call to make." Pushing his door open Toushirou got out of the car. When he heard his niece's door open, he locked the vehicle and led the way into the shop.

Rangiku, of course, went straight to the front counter and leaned over it to start whispering to Neliel. Immediately, they were so wrapped up that the usual exuberant greeting wasn't called to him. Not that he minded. His business was elsewhere.

Without permission, he walked behind the counter and into the back of the store, turning right to the stairs leading to the portion of the building that was Urahara's home. Just because he was in a hurry didn't mean he was a complete animal about it, though; he knocked twice on the door at the landing before pushing it open and going into the room. "Kisuke!" he called, closing the door behind him.

A blond head- complete with a green and white striped hat- peeked out from around the door frame that he knew opened into the kitchen. "Well, if my eyes don't deceive me. Toushirou Hitsugaya, bursting into people's houses uninvited doesn't sound like you."

"Oh, shut up. Where's your phone?" It was obvious that he was hardly in the mood for jokes. This wasn't uncharacteristic of him, but coupled with the fact that he had burst into the house with no warning but a couple of knocks, it was a little worrying.

Worrying enough that Kisuke sobered up considerably.

"There." he replied, pointing to the table beside the couch.

Toushirou threw himself there, flopping gracelessly onto the soft green cushions and picking up the phone at the same time. He dialed the number quickly, then pressed the speaker button and set the receiver on the arm of the piece of furniture.

Curious, Kisuke sat down beside him, listening as the phone rang time after time. Who was he calling...?

"Hello?" The voice on the other end of the line was unmistakeable.

"Juushiro!" It was a relief that the call had been answered; most of the time, it went to voicemail.

"Ah, Toushirou. It's nice to hear your voice again. Is there something wrong...?"

"You could say that. Where is Shunsui? Can he come to the phone?" There was a certain urgency to Toushirou's voice that hadn't been there for a long time.

There was a short pause on the other end, and then a soft sigh. "I'm not promising that you'll get much out of him... I can't even get much out of him anymore..."

"That bad...?" Of course, he'd known it was bad. But in the past, Shunsui had at least responded to Juushiro- whether it was just speaking to him, or in _other _ways. Had he even stopped doing that much?

"Sometimes..." It was obvious how much that hurt Juushiro.

"I'm sorry..."

"I knew it was coming."

Toushirou felt bad about it, but this was absolutely necessary. "I hate asking... but I really need to talk to him... Can you at least ask him...?"

"Of course, Toushirou." There was an obvious smile in the voice. "Just a moment." Then there was silence on the other end.

"What's all this about?" Kisuke asked, leaning closer to the high school teacher.

"Did you know that Shiro is spending his time with your godchild?" Teal eyes gauged for reaction. Thin, pale fingers spun the receiver on the couch arm.

"Well, yes... Jinta informed me that they'd come to the store together the other day..."

"Not just like _that_, Kisuke. From what I can tell, they're romantically involved. I've seen them together... Didn't think much of it, before today. Momo told me that Aizen's been acting strange, and that she saw those two leaving together; it clicked, when she said that..."

"That... that's just assumption. You can't be sure."

"But I am. Why else would he be acting like this again? It's dangerous, and we can't take a chance on Ichigo's life. Not like we did with Renji Abarai."

"We couldn't have kno-"

"But we _thought!_" Toushirou snapped, glaring harshly over at the other. "And that thought could have saved the lives of two boys."

"Toushirou Hitsugaya. As I live and breathe." The slurred voice came suddenly from over the line. The aforementioned white-haired man looked over at the phone, especially upon hearing Juushiro mutter a, "Hardly." in the background.

"Shunsui! It's good to hear your voice..." They'd all been so worried about him lately. Hearing him speak was the tiniest relief; not enough, because from the sound of it, he was drunk out of his mind again.

"Can't say the same." On the other end of the line, Shunsui took a large gulp of sake, though Juushiro was trying to wrestle it from him. "Juushiro, leggo. Da's mine."

Hearing the way Shunsui was now, it almost made him rethink this whole thing. But it had to be done. "Shunsui, listen." It got silent on the other end. "I need any files that you still have on the Shirosaki case." He heard Kyoraku choke and sputter on the alcohol he was drinking.

"Wh-what?!" It was two voices, mingling together.

"Hichigo Shirosaki's come back." A note of irritation laced his voice. It was becoming tiring, explaining this over and over.

"So?"

The note of irritation became a chord. "Sooo... he's found a new boy. And Aizen is less than pleased about it. I fear that history might repeat itself, and I refuse to lose a third person to this man's insanity!"

More silence. There was no way his request would be accepted... Shunsui would refuse. It was too painful. Asking- dredging up that past pain- had been a mistake. The case hadn't been lost; Hichigo had been allowed to walk free. But it might as well have been, because the majority of the town still believed the boy guilty. He still faced scorn and hate every day. He couldn't be all that he was, because no one cared. And, most importantly, Toushirou knew that it tore Shiro apart, knowing that everyone thought he was capable of murdering Renji Abarai. It tore Shunsui apart, too; he'd been unable to prevent that.

"Juushiro and I will dig them up... Come and get them tonight."

And then, without a goodbye, the line went dead.

It didn't matter. Toushirou had gotten what he'd called for. He couldn't be more grateful. Perhaps all of this could be resolved...

-xXx-

The back pressed up against his chest was warm, and the heart behind it beat in time with his own. Stark white hair tickled his nose. He nuzzled into the hollow behind the ear, eyes on the television screen. Then he nibbled lightly on the lobe.

"That's cheating." the sweet, though distorted, voice informed him. He felt the words reverberate through the body pressed against his own.

"Only if you like it." Ichigo replied easily, biting the ear again and taking a cheap shot on the game they were playing.

Immediately after school, they'd walked to Shiro's house to play the new game he'd gotten. Now they were sitting on the floor in the living room, his arms around the paler teen and their legs tangled together as they stretched out.

"Then it's definitely cheating. Punishably so." He gave up a moment to move one hand from the controller to slide his fingertips along the inside of his boyfriend's thigh. He felt Ichigo shiver and smirked.

"That's cheating, too. So let's call it even, eh?"

"Okay." Shiro paused the game and turned his face to catch the other's lips. Both of the controllers hit the floor between their knees. Ichigo's arms tightened around his waist, and one of his hands moved up to lay against a warm, tan cheek. "Stay over tonight?" he murmured, and when he spoke, the other pair of lips moved with his own.

"Got school tomorrow." White teeth nipped at a pale, nearly-colorless lip.

"So?" His fingers slid along Ichigo's throat, and he felt the vibrations of a laugh.

"Alright." After one more kiss, Ichigo pulled away and picked up his controller again. "Before your mom comes back in and scolds me for ruining her son's innocence~" he teased, the tip of his tongue flickering across the side of the other's pale neck.

"You know she was just teasing you." Shiro replied, picking his own controller up and unpausing the game. "She's just glad to see me happy. And she likes you, anyways." He made himself more comfortable against the other, leaning his head back against Ichigo's shoulder.

"Either way..." He pressed his mouth to the other's throat, though it was difficult in this new position. "We should go out this weekend. Maybe the movie theater?"

"I thought you said that movie theater sucked?" he hissed through his teeth, jerking slightly. Obviously, reactions in real-life assisted in the video game world.

"It does."

"Then why should we go there?"

"I dunno. We stay at your house almost all the time. And if we're not here, we're at Urahara's shop. If we stay there much longer, I'm going to have to get false teeth because of all the candy Nel gives us."

That made Shiro laugh, and Ichigo smiled at the sound.

"Alright, Ichi. We'll go to the movies. Friday night?"

"Sounds great." Hardly anyone went to the movie theater in this town, so there would be very few people to bother them.

That was the hope, at least.


	8. Insight

A/N: You guys, allow me to ramble a bit in this note. I haven't done it much in any of the past chapters, so allow it, and please read it, because some of this, I feel, is pretty important.

**1.)** **This is a public service announcement from your loving authoress, Madarao. **So. I was discussing this story with one of my friends the other day, and I realized something. Safe and Sound is pretty fucking deep. It teaches lessons. It teaches that the word of a person shouldn't be trusted and believed just because of their standing in society. It teaches that you need to look past the public view, to the person underneath the scorn. And it also teaches a lesson very dear to me; it teaches how negatively the constant nagging and insulting of someone you've left behind can affect a person. So, if you are currently in a position where you are targeting a person constantly; **stop it.** And if you're being targeted by someone, **speak up****.** This is not something that has to be taken. It needs to be stopped. -steps off of soap box-

**2.)** Now, I shall speak about this chapter right here. I apologize for the lateness. I was working on it during the last weeks of classes, when we were cramming for finals and AP exams. Then I was gone for a few days in Florida. And the past week... I've just been lazy. Buh. And also... for some reason, this chapter was somewhat... difficult to write. I knew what I wanted, but getting it down was a challenge. I'm pleased with the outcome, though. It offers insight on a bunch of characters, and you get to see where they are and what they're doing leading up to the biiiig finale!

**3.)** Holy shit, you guys. It's five A.M., I haven't slept, and I got the brilliant idea to google myself, using my pen name. You guys... My pen name comes up in the suggested. Does that mean that people actually search for me there, or is it just a flaw? Omg. It doesn't matter. It makes me happy.

Now that I've gotten that out of the way, you may move on to the story~

I don't own Bleach. Srsly.

Enjoy~! Your reviews are very much appreciated; it inspires me to hear what people have to say about my work~ -heart-

_**~Insight**_

All of the case notes were encrypted; so encrypted, in fact, that they barely even made sense. The files from the hospital and the police station were safe, of course. But none of those held Kyoraku's touch; there were separate notes on those, which were also encrypted. And Shunsui couldn't seem to remember the method he'd used. An encryption without a code. How lovely.

Damn Shunsui and his paranoia.

Toushirou had been up for the better part of the night, poring over the case files and trying to make some sense of them. He'd started with the manilla folders gotten from the hospital and police; since they weren't coded, they were the easiest part, and he'd made his own notes. Then those went to the side, encrypted sheets laying atop their respective folders. His own notes stayed close, just in case he made a breakthrough and needed to compare.

Unfortunately, staying up all night, staring at the scribblings of an apparent madman, seemed to lull him right to sleep; for the next thing he knew, Rangiku was shaking him awake. Sea-green eyes were slow to blink open.

His back was screaming in protest. In order to relieve that, he shifted slightly. Immediately, he noticed the aching in his neck. He had no idea what was wrong.

It was unusual that his mind was slow to catch up with reality, but it was on this day; probably it was because he'd remained awake way too late. But he finally realized that he was not, in fact, in his bed. Instead, he was slumped over his desk, papers and folders strewn around him. His favorite pen- the leaky one that needed to be replaced- was resting against his hand, his fingers having released it during the night; there were dried purple ink spots on his pale skin.

"Toushirou, you're drooling all over the files!" Rangiku informed him exasperatedly, knocking her knuckles against the back of his head.

He sat up abruptly, swiping at his mouth. The corner of his mouth was, indeed, damp and a sheet of paper was stuck to his cheek. His niece removed it before he could.

"Any luck?" She'd gone to bed the previous night, and he'd still been up, pulling his hair out over the files. When she'd gotten up at three, he'd been fast asleep, using a particularly thick file as a pillow. She'd put a blanket around his shoulder. One that had fallen off when he'd jerked upright.

"None at all. I made my own notes, but I want to see what _he _thought." Toushirou let his pen roll across the desk. "He was a great lawyer..." Who knew it would be the case of a young boy that ruined him? "And he made a great case for Shirosaki." Unfortunately, remembering what had transpired in the court room wasn't nearly enough for him. These case files...

"Maybe, if Ukitake can get him to sober up a little, Kyoraku can remember how to-"

"No." Toushirou muttered, standing up. He still needed to shower- as he'd neglected to do so the night before- and dress before going to the school, though he considered calling in sick and continuing to agonize over these papers. But that was so unlike him. In addition, if he didn't go, then who else would keep an eye on those two boys and Aizen? "I wouldn't ask that of Shunsui. Finding these files and handing them over to me was painful enough for him. He told me then that he couldn't remember the method he'd used for encryption. I refuse to ask him for anything more." He stretched and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Well, then, I hope you can crack it. If you're right-"

"Of course I'm right."

"-then... Well, I have no idea what it could do to help him, but it must be important!" she continued, as if she hadn't been interrupted.

"I'll crack it. I just... need a little time, is all." And to put himself in Shunsui's former mind. It would be difficult; he hadn't known the lawyer quite as well then. In the past, the man had been much more secretive; now, he didn't have any secrets _to _keep. "Go get ready. We're running late as it is."

She sighed softly, but did as she was told and left the room to go and find her shoes, which she had misplaced the previous evening upon returning home.

Hopefully, this whole mess could be cleared up soon.

-xXx-

The day dawned bright and early, with birds chirping noisily outside of the windows. Invasive rays of harsh sunlight filtered around the edge of black curtains, shining directly in his face. The insides of his eyelids shown red, causing him to rouse, and Hichigo grunted in discontent, first trying to hide his face with his hand. He quickly discovered that was futile, and instead turned on his other side so that the sun shone on his stark white hair.

He had a bad feeling. A very bad feeling. It would be best to just stay in bed for the rest of the day.

Long arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, pulling him into a warm, firm chest. At first, they startled him, and he stiffened in the embrace as he tried to figure out who was in his bed. It took a few moments for him to remember that Ichigo had stayed over. Immediately, he relaxed. A chuckle rumbled through the chest that was pressed against. Sweet heat seeped over the nape of his neck; it warmed him to the very tips of his fingers and toes.

"Took you a minute, eh?" Ichigo's voice was husky with sleep. The sounds made him shudder; how sexy could the orange-haired teen _get? _

"Well, I did sleep pretty well. Was a little disoriented." Shiro looked over his shoulder at the other male so that his grin was visible. "Imagine my surprise when there was a sexy stranger in my bed."

Ichigo smirked and buried his nose into locks of thick, white hair. "Not quite such a stranger now, though."

"No. Not quite."

For a few moments, they were quiet, tan fingers brushing over the pale, tight skin of the other's lower stomach. A glance at the clock shattered the easy peace. If they remained as they were for much longer, they'd be late for school.

"Fuckin' hell." Hichigo muttered under his breath, untangling himself from his boyfriend so that he could sit on the edge of the bed and stretch. "You can borrow some of my clothes; we should wear about the same size." They were the same build, though Ichigo was a little taller; perhaps that was just because the elder of the two slumped under the scorn he faced.

"Oh, right. Thanks." Seeing as his stay had been unanticipated, the strawberry had no clean clothes of his own. He smirked widely at the other. "Hope you won't mind my lack of underwear~" he teased, climbing off of the bed.

Brilliant yellow eyes followed the bare ass to the closet. "Considering my current view... Not at all."

Ichigo laughed softly at the response, taking the only pair of blue jeans in Shiro's wardrobe, along with one of his plain grey t-shirts. It looked almost like something he'd have in his own closet, so it worked. And when he put his jacket on, no one would even be able to tell the difference.

Hichigo, clad in his usual black and white attire, led the way downstairs. A breakfast of waffles and bacon was waiting for them. Shirayuki was seated at the counter; a silver laptop was sat in front of her, a nearly-empty plate to one side and a mug of steaming tea held between her hands as she stared at the bright screen. A look of absolute concentration had taken over her features, and she must have been completely absorbed, because she didn't even look up.

"Morning, Mom." Shiro greeted, handing a plate to their guest. Ice blue eyes blinked and lifted to them. The concentration shattered into a bright smile. "Good morning, boys! How did you sleep?"

"Great." he replied simply, mouth already full of crispy bacon.

"Very well, ma'am, and you?" Ichigo returned politely. It sounded so unlike him that the fair teen at the stove snorted a laugh and nearly choked on his food.

But Shirayuki seemed incredibly pleased with his manners. "Wonderfully, dear, thank you."

Conversation after that was easy. Though she tried not to appear as distracted by the work on her laptop, it was pretty obvious. There was still more talk there than on the walk to the high school. There, the two fell into a comfortable silence as they walked hand-in-hand.

For the first time in days, the courtyard was full of small groups when they arrived, as opposed to containing one large clump heading to the front doors. It was easy to find his group of friends. Plus Ulquiorra; while they were friendly enough, the quiet boy didn't tend to interact with anyone but Orihime. In fact, he didn't even answer questions in class- just stared at the teacher until someone else was asked.

Chizuru looked less than pleased with his presence. No surprise there.

"Hey, Ichi! Hey, Shiro!" the orange-haired girl greeted enthusiastically, reaching out to hug the both of them at the same time. Shiro looked as if he'd never been touched by another human being before, eyes as wide as those of a deer in the headlights.

"Hey, Orihime." Ichigo didn't sound nearly as excited as his busty friend.

"H-hey..." And Shiro certainly didn't; all he sounded was faint and nervous.

She didn't seem to notice, though, and went straight on into an exuberant, detailed account of the disgusting-sounding dessert she'd had the previous night. The look on Hichigo's face was priceless; he looked positively revolted. And with good reason. His mother was a wondrous cook, and while she was forever trying out new recipes, everything she made was absolutely delightful.

Ichigo just laughed at him.

The two had only been in the courtyard for a few minutes when the bell rang, signaling that it was time to enter the building. He followed Ichigo to his locker, fingers twined with the other male's so that their hands didn't separate despite the gap that the crowded hallway forced between them.

Aizen's classroom door was shut and locked- the light off- when they arrived. Assuming he was in a meeting of sorts, his first period students waited outside, talking quietly. (And Ichigo would admit to stealing a few kisses from the surprised object of his affection.)

Another bell rang. Still no sign of Aizen. This greatly pleased Ichigo, but Shirosaki had a new, more intense worry gnawing at his gut. It was something that not even the occasional sweet kiss could distract him from, and honestly, it was making him sick to his stomach.

About ten minutes after the tardy signal, a substitute teacher bustled over to them, keys jingling in her hand. All of the students filed in, taking their seats. Ichigo stole the one beside Shirosaki, leaving one of the other students- whose names he didn't know- to sit in his usual spot by Shuuhei. This gave him the opportunity to forget completely about the work they'd been left, and occasionally reach over to pinch the his boyfriend's thigh. The fair-haired male would jump, then glare over at him and blush slightly.

It was cute, in Ichigo's opinion.

During one of the breaks between pinches, Hichigo rested his chin in the palm of his hand and stared absently at the white board behind the teacher's desk, having already finished his assigned work; not only did he work fast, but he found the current subject matter offensively easy. Not everyone was of the same opinion, though; he and Ichigo were the only ones not working, it looked like Shuuhei was simply doodling all over his paper, and Uryuu was bent over his work- probably perfecting formulas and diagrams.

His phone vibrated in his pants pocket, and his spine cracked as he straightened up to reach down and grab it. Though he didn't recognize the number at all, he didn't think too much on it and simply slid his finger across the screen to open it, yawning.

_I miss you, Snowflake._

It took a few reads over the message before it registered in his mind. Only one person called him that: Sosuke Aizen. But... how did the man get his number? As far as he knew, only Ichigo and a few of the orangette's friends had it, and he was sure none of them had given it to the teacher.

It was only a moment before that thought was pushed out of the way to make room for the panic. If Aizen could get his phone number, then what else could he get his hands on? And how was he doing it? Was he watching him? Of course, he was. But how often? How closely? Were others watching him, as well? _For_ Aizen?

More than anything, he needed to stop thinking. All the possibilities were forcing his breath to come faster, his chest and throat tightening uncomfortably. Suddenly, he felt very much too hot, and he began to feel as if the floor might just have a surprise meeting with his face.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going to come next. It had happened to him many times during his trial- the weeks before and after, included.

Without a word to either the substitute teacher or Ichigo, the teen- whose cheeks were somehow even paler than usual- scrambled from his seat and stumbled between the rows, straight out of the door, which had thankfully been left wide open.

He could already taste it.

No time for the bathroom, or even to race outside for the grass. Instead, he shoved the top off of a garbage can not far from the class, at the end of the hall, and unceremoniously dropped his head into it. It was mere seconds before he retched violently, shoving his hand against the wall to keep himself steady as the morning's lunch and burning stomach acid spattered over the night black garbage bag.

Shiro found it best that he didn't move at first, just to ensure that it was completely out of his system. His sweaty forehead rested against the arm that was wrapped around the rim of the garbage bin. He didn't even notice the urgent voice at his ear or the calming hand on his back for a few minute or two. When he did, he blinked wearily and looked up at whoever had witnessed his shame.

He was met with sweet, concerned, chocolate brown eyes.

In his partially delirious state, he blinked slowly, murmuring, "Renji...?"

But then the voice became familiar, and a shock of orange hair flopped over those same eyes. He smiled, knowing that it was Ichigo who stood in front of him; the only person who could ever surpass Renji in his eyes.

"I'm fine, Ichi. Calm down." he said softly, so as to hide the roughness of his voice. He did wish that he had a mint, though; barf breath was possibly the least attractive thing in the universe.

"As if! Come on! I'm taking you to the nurse, and then I'm walking you home." The determination in his voice didn't leave room for argument. The orangette pulled the object of his affection into his embrace, so that that fair head of hair rested against his shoulder, and began leading him in the direction that- he assumed- would lead them eventually to the nurse's office.

"Ichi... stop." He dug his heels into the tile, as if it would do some good. "You can walk me there, I suppose... but there's no reason for you to take me home. I'll just... walk by myself..." After all, he knew that he wasn't sick, but it would be insisted that he go home due to the previous incident. And if he had to do that... Well, he wanted to have a conversation with his favorite flame-headed spirit. It was mostly so that he could attempt to figure some things out. At the very least, if he couldn't do that, he wanted to clear his head.

"But, Shiro-"

"It's not like I can't handle it. I'll be fine. Stop worrying so much." He smiled weakly, eyes softening. "I'd kiss you, but..." he pointed to his mouth, "kinda nasty, wouldn't you say?"

"Idiot." And even knowing that it _was _nasty, Ichigo kissed the corner of Shiro's mouth, over half on his cheek. Not _really _on the mouth, therefore _not_ disgusting.

The elder of the two still shook his head, then allowed himself to be carted off to see Lady Unohana and her assistant, Isane.

-xXx-

He watched the pale lips move, form words.

He watched the unique, lovely eyes begin to droop.

He watched the fair head nod towards the tombstone.

Hichigo had always been able to fall asleep quickly. Now was no exception, but Sosuke made certain that the boy had enough time to do so well enough that he could be touched with rousing completely. Then he picked his own way through the strewn graves, kneeling before his perfect snow angel.

His cold brown eyes roamed over the boy's lithe form, curled up and leaning against the rough side of that Abarai's gravestone. His eyelashes were abnormally dark for the rest of his body, and surprisingly long, as well; they rested and curved against his high, pale cheekbones. Shocks of stark hair fell over his forehead, blocking portions of eyebrows of the same color and creased eyelids. Locks curled around his neck, sticking close to the skin on their descent down. They reached the nape of his love's neck, he knew.

His nose was a gentle slope, with a small scar on the bridge near the tip; Sosuke was ashamed to admit that he had no idea where that had come from, and assumed it must have happened while the boy was hiding away from him.

Hichigo's top lip was thinner than the full bottom one, and both were a pale, pale pink- almost washed out; a sharp, wicked tongue was sheltered behind them. It made sense that his lips were strangely pretty, so as to make up for the words that tongue formed.

Reaching up, the brunette gently brushed a thumb over the curve of his affection's cheekbone, as if a woman putting on blush, then leaned forward and carefully, gently kissed those sinful lips.

"I apologize, my heart, for what I must do... but you see... you've left me no choice."

The only response he received was a soft murmur and slight shifting.

After admiring his beauty for a few moments longer, Sosuke stood again, and just as quietly as he'd come, exited the cemetery. His plan still had a few kinks to be worked out before tonight.

-xXx-

His footsteps made no noise on the cold, hardwood floor, despite the rubber soles of his sneakers. The lights weren't on; he hadn't bothered with them. The hall was cast in shadow, as was the rest of the house. The tips of his fingers trailed over the stark white wall, eyes slitted open just enough to observe. That pale hand trailed lower as he neared the room he was walking to.

The room that Aizen never allowed him in.

The room that intrigued him, despite him having a pretty fair idea of what lay behind the door.

Twisting the doorknob, Gin pushed the mysterious door open and stepped inside of the room. It was even darker than the rest of the house; not just dim, but pitch black. Searching the wall with the same hand that had opened the door, the white-haired boy found the light switch and flipped it up. The light that came on wasn't particularly bright, but it was enough that he could see.

It was set up like an office- Aizen considered it as such- with a desk in front of the two curtained windows on the opposite side of the room. A tall-backed, black leather computer chair sat behind the desk, a computer turned towards it. Two plush chairs faced the desk, sat on an ornate rug. At either of the door frame, stood towering oak book shelves. Nothing stood in front of the rest of the walls, but they were far from bare.

They were scattered with pictures and news prints.

Slowly, he walked around the perimeter of the room, dragging a flat palm over the papers. They were all centered around one subject: Hichigo Shirosaki.

The apple of his father's eye.

The idea made him sick.

_This _made him sick.

A whole room dedicated to someone his age? It would have been slightly less creepy had it not been a man a little over twice their age. Some of the pictures dated back to when Shirosaki was still very young- possibly kindergarten or before. When he wore colored clothes that washed out his skin even more, and his hair was so long that his mother would put it up in a ponytail for him every day. When he wore shorts that were criminal, because his parents called it his freedom of expression. Only a few of the pictures actually had his attention on the camera. Most were taken when his focus was elsewhere. And some- though he didn't let his gaze linger on these too long- had their center way too low, including on those criminally short shorts.

A part of him wanted to rip every single scrap of paper from the walls, throw them in a heap, and set them on fire. Drown them in the river. Shred them to teeny-tiny, unrecognizable pieces.

And if he could have, then he would have, but he wasn't even supposed to be in here in the first place. The last thing he wanted was for his father to know his personal space had been invaded. At least, for now, he needed to remain on Aizen's good side.

So when he heard the front door open, Gin hurried to slip out of the room as quietly as he could, making his way back down the hall.

Soon, he'd ruin every little disgrace hanging on those walls.


	9. Surreality

A/N: Hi, guys! So, this is not the last chapter. But it's close. So enjoy it! Also, do you know how difficult it is to find Bleach roleplays now? Especially for the odder pairings, like Shuuhei/Shirosaki and Starrk/Ichigo. I just want some of those roleplays, man! D: (If you want to roleplay, or have a place besides Gaia where I can look for roleplays, let me know, please!)

Goddamn. I hate when people steal my ideas. And act all high and mighty. Like a biiiitch.

Guys. I don't own Bleach. ._.

Please enjoy this chapter, and let me know what you think in a review!

**_~Surreality_**

Friday was a very stressful day. Not only was Aizen mysteriously absent again, but Shiro also had a date in the evening to worry about.

It had been a long time since he'd been on anything that could be considered a date. The excursions with Grimmjow didn't count; not in his eyes. The last time would have been with Renji, a few days before he was murdered. They'd gone to the skating rink; the redhead had patiently held onto him as he attempted to figure out how to survive on shoes with _wheels_.

Who was the genius that had gotten that brilliant idea? And what the fuck was he or she on?

Hichigo stared at himself in his bedroom mirror, stripped down to nothing but a pair of checkerboard boxers and a scowl. One pale hand moved up, pushing through his fair, still slightly damp hair from the nape of his neck to the small locks of hair that fell over his forehead.

What did one _wear _on a date? How nicely was one required to dress? Would a t-shirt be acceptable? Did he even have anything other than t-shirts buried in that closet?

He turned his gaze from the mirror to the dark depths of his closet, ignoring the few piles that had fallen on the floor and instead scanned the clothes dangling from the hangers. It was all a big mass of white and black, with a few other colors mixed in randomly. For a few minutes, he simply stared silently, attempting to make out specific articles from where he was.

In the end, he couldn't find anything other than t-shirts and tank tops, so he went with black jeans and a white tank top. (Grimmjow had always called them muscle shirts, claiming that it was more manly, but Shiro would just roll his eyes and mutter that they were the same thing.) He even bent over the sink to scrub the dirty smudges from the toes of his newest pair of Converse. Of course, then he had to clean out the sink before brushing his teeth- twice- and clean it again afterward to rid the porcelain surface of the toothpaste and mouthwash. On his way out of the bathroom, he tossed the damp rag into a hamper and the used string of floss into the garbage.

After ensuring his hair was no longer damp with the dryer on the dresser and slipping his shoes on before he walked downstairs. He'd barely picked his jacket up off of the table, mouth open to call to his mother and father that he was leaving, when the first flash of a camera right in his face blinded him.

-xXx-

Down the street, Ichigo was also in his room, preparing for their date, which they'd be leaving for in just a little while. He was different from Shiro in that he wasn't nervous at all. While he'd never been on a date before, he and his boyfriend had been practically inseparable since their first kiss. Not only that, he knew that he really liked Hichigo, and he knew that he was very much liked back, so he didn't see that there was anything for him to worry about.

Since they were just going to a movie theater, he knew that no fancy dress wear was required, and so he simply settled for a bright blue v-neck and a pair of darkly colored jeans; the pants were new, and so he thought those might be nice for such an occasion. While he wouldn't be wearing anything _fancy, _that didn't mean he should simply neglect to look _nice. _His mother had taught him better than that, in the time that she was with them.

Some of the preparation time was spent in the bathroom. His attempt to tame his unruly hair went unrewarded, as it was still stubbornly spiking up in certain directions. At least tending to his dental hygiene wasn't nearly as difficult as hair management.

When he saw that he had enough time, he even shined the toes and heels of his boots after lacing them about halfway up.

Before tonight, he hadn't told his father where he was going, or even that he was going out in the first place. So when he trooped down the stairs, stuffing his wallet in his back pocket, his father looked up. Upon seeing his son's attire, Isshin's expression turned to one of surprise.

"Going somewhere, Ichigo?" he asked, tone somewhat challenging. After all, he didn't like that his son thought he could just go out whenever he wanted, without even warning him.

"Yeah. I'm going to the movie theater."

"Alone?"

"No." The orange-haired teen rolled his eyes at his father's interrogation.

"Then who with?"

Ichigo glared over his shoulder at the man, even as he pulled his jacket on and started towards the front door. "Shiro."

He could feel the shit storm about to hit before his dad even said a word.

Isshin stood up from his spot at the table, slamming his hands down on the surface and staring his son down angrily. "With _who?_ Ichigo Kurosaki, I told you that you weren't supposed to hang around with him! He's bad news!"

"And _I _told you that he's not a bad guy! He's not like everyone says he is! And since when do you believe what everyone else says?!" Ichigo snapped, turning around to glare at his father. His hand never left the doorknob, though. "Hichigo... is not like what he's made out to be. He's nice. And he's sweet. And he's just... he's been judged wrongly by all these people. And I _know _he hasn't killed anyone." Shoving the door open, he stepped backwards outside. "Now. I'm going to the movies with Shiro. Because I like him. Nothing you can say will stop me, and if you're going to give me hell about it... then I'm staying at his house tonight." With that, he shut the door behind him, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and started down the driveway.

A jerk on his collar stopped his forward progress.

-xXx-

Gin sat quietly at their kitchen table, staring at the wall and absently tilting his bottle of water so that the liquid inside would rush from one side to the other. His father was rustling about the house; he could hear him. And while Aizen had never told him what exactly he was doing, he had a fair guess. It didn't take a genius, after all.

Today was the day.

His dad was preparing.

There was a specific role set aside for he himself that evening. While it seemed like a small one, Sosuke had made it very clear that this particular role was incredibly important.

It was his job to lure the unsuspecting Hichigo into the little trap.

That was it.

He'd do that, and then walk away. Supposedly.

In all honesty, he wasn't sure why Aizen wasn't making him do all the dirty work, but he supposed that since it was to be pawned off on Shiro, it didn't matter much. Besides, he probably wanted to be the one to end Ichigo Kurosaki, anyways.

Setting the water bottle down on the table top, the reptilian-eyed teenager stood up and walked around, running his fingers over the wooden edge of the piece of furniture. Sure. He would do just what his father wanted. No problem. But he had a little extra in mind. A little extra for himself.

Straying away from the table, he wrapped his fingers around the handle of the drawer full of silverware. The largest, sharpest knives were at the back. A thin, pale hand slipped back there, grabbing the smooth handle of one and pulling it free. The pad of his index finger ran slowly down along the thin blade. It was sharp enough.

He spun around, knocking the drawer closed with his hip and hiding the knife behind his back. Aizen's head popped out of the hallway. "Are you ready?"

Gin's eyes slitted open just slightly, a snake's venomous smile curling his lips. "Of course, Father."

-xXx-

Today was the day. It seemed like it had been decades since that damned Kurosaki had come in, right underneath his nose, and taken his snowflake from him. The brat was just like his mother. Masaki Kurosaki had been far too nosy for her own good- and definitely more self-righteous than a person had any right to be.

She'd found him taking pictures of Hichigo, who had been about the same age as the orange-haired pre-teen that had been clinging to her hand for dear life despite the majority of his attention being elsewhere. Of course, she angrily questioned him, then stole the camera away from him to see what he'd been doing. When she found out, she'd looked at him in disgust, smashed the device underneath her heel, threatened him with the police, and then dragged her young son off with her.

That had been the night of her death.

And now, her son would join her on the other side.

Carefully, slowly, Aizen ran his the tips of his fingers over one of the newer pictures of his snow angel, gazing fondly at the photo. It had been taken at that soccer game; when Hichigo had been with the Kurosaki brat. Despite knowing why he was there, the fair-haired teen looked gorgeous with the sun shining in his stark hair and on his pale cheeks. It was a sight that he simply had to capture, even if he knew that he would always remember it.

When he was sure that he was ready, he stepped away from the wall of his study- feeling the weight against his back, where the same sheathed knife he'd used on Masaki and Renji sat- and quietly left the room, ghosting down the hall. His son was in the kitchen, waiting for him.

-xXx-

Ichigo struggled against the hand that was dragging him backwards, and against the one that was covering his mouth. He'd already bitten the palm hard enough to draw blood- and he knew that he did, because he had tasted it- and yet it hadn't moved from its place. Aizen hadn't even seemed to notice the teeth breaking through his skin.

It made him wonder if the man really felt nothing.

But there was no time for such useless musings. Now, his main focus had to be escaping this maniac. He'd once promised Shiro that he could easily fend Aizen off if it was necessary, but no amount of kicking and punching and flailing was forcing his grip to so much as waver. This guy was some kind of freakazoid, because those were damn good blows he was landing.

The light around them was dim; it wouldn't be long before the street lamps were switched on. Ichigo could hear voices coming closer, and for a moment, he was overtaken by a wave of hope. That turned to ice when he recognized one of the voices as Shiro's; he was arguing with someone. His efforts were renewed. He kicked his legs, pressing his heels into the ground and arching away from the deranged brunette that was holding tightly to him; his body writhed and twisted, trying to get the hands holding tightly to him to be moved in such a way that it was impossible for their grip to remain intact. It didn't work and the hold remained firm.

The feeling of panic mounted when he saw Hichigo turn the corner; most likely trying to shake whoever was with him by ducking through the alley- as most people around here were too superstitious and paranoid to take an alley at night.

Mustering up all that he could, Ichigo let out a shriek that would have put a two year old to shame. It was terribly muffled by the hand that suddenly clamped even more harshly over his mouth, and cut short by his collar being jerked painfully, but it was enough to get Shiro's attention. Oddly colored eyes shot over to him, and whatever he'd been saying to his companion was cut off in the middle of a word.

The sight he was met with was not one he wanted to see.

As soon as his little snow angel rounded the corner, Sosuke readjusted the knife handle in his hand, giving himself a better grip, and thrust the long, curved blade through the back of the worm he held. He could feel the flesh and muscle tear, and even the bone scraping. The weapon was long enough that he knew it had gone straight through the kid's stomach. Slowly, he withdrew the knife from the warm body it was buried into. It was a bad wound, but he decided that would be the only one. This made the strawberry the lucky one; Renji's intestines had been strewn about this very alleyway years ago.

Wide, pain-filled cinnamon brown eyes gazed back at Hichigo, slightly glazed; they looked identical to the way Renji's had. Crimson liquid trickled from paled lips- the same lips that he'd kissed so many times since he'd come back to this hellhole of a town. The dark substance was slowly seeping out to stain the bright blue material of the teen's shirt, right around where his stomach would be located. Behind him stood a viciously grinning Sosuke Aizen.

"I-Ichigo!" Shiro couldn't contain the panicked wail that left his lips, leaving Gin behind to stumble forward into the alley, to his boyfriend. He didn't quite make it before the serial murderer tossed the limp body his way. The fair-haired teen was quick to catch him, despite all the blood. He could feel the warm liquid seep through his shirt to his skin, and he pressed the palm of a hand to the wound on his back. A bloody hand grabbed the other's chin, lifting his head up. "Please... Ichigo... don't die..." he pleaded softly, his knees buckling. And he fell with the other, still clinging to him.

"Don't worry, sweetheart..." Ichigo's sweet, sweet voice was pained and gurgled; there was blood in his throat, rising from the tear in his stomach. He tried to turn his head, but not in time enough, and he coughed up some of the dark, life-giving liquid. "I don't plan on dying on you..."

Shiro used one of his hands to fumble for his cell phone, but before he could find it, one dropped on Ichigo's stomach.

"I've already dialed 911. Hit the call button."

He hadn't even noticed Gin walk forward from where he'd left him, outside the alley on the sidewalk.

"G-Gin...-"

"Just do what I said, Shirosaki!" Ichimaru snapped, lifting a leg to slide a kitchen knife from his boot. It had nicked his ankle, so there was already a bit of blood on the silver blade, but it was the only place he'd been able to hide it. The waistband of his pants had been a bad idea; he'd thought about simply sliding it into his sleeve, but that had proved just as bad, seeing as it restricted his movement and dug into his forearm when he bent it at the elbow.

Aizen's expression dulled to a lack of one. "Ah. My own son. I should have seen this coming."

"Of course you should have. You put my mom through hell after you left. It was the stress, in the end, that killed her. The stress that _you_ caused."

"Come on, Gin. We both know you could never actually use that." Aizen said confidently, gesturing to the knife in his son's hand with his own bloody one.

Gin twisted the knife around in his hand, his eyes slitting open as he gazed at his father. "Sure I will."

Unfortunately, Aizen had the good sense to move when he saw the other's hand twitch. But he only had enough time to sidestep slightly. The knife flew at him; the sharp blade imbedded itself low on his shoulder. Though it was highly against his instincts to show that he was in pain- or even so much as bothered by the fact that a sharp piece of steel was currently invading the flesh of his shoulder- he couldn't suppress a hiss at the searing agony tearing through the area as the warm blood began to seep out of the wound.

Shiro cut off his stammered conversation with the dispatcher on the other end of the line when their brunette teacher vaulted at Ichimaru, moving so fast and so suddenly that his panicked mind couldn't keep up with the movements. The next thing he knew, he was listening to the gurgling sound of Gin's labored breathing, and staring at his classmate sprawled out on the dirty alley floor.

Sosuke was standing over him. The expression on his face suggested he felt no remorse for just having stabbed his own son.

Now Hichigo was panicking even more, settling Ichigo down on the ground with a promise to return, before crawling partially towards Gin and reaching out to grab onto him. He felt fingers wrap around his ankle; he knew they belonged to his boyfriend, because they didn't tug, but simply held. "Y-you can't die, either!" As much as he'd tried to sound forceful, his voice only came out soft and wavering. He flinched upon hearing the clatter of a knife against the concrete. A sweep showed the bloody weapon that had previously been in Aizen's shoulder, now a few feet away from him.

His ears started ringing, and the image of the knife laying in the dark shadow cast by the alley wall started to fade.

Another hand grabbed his own, dragging his attention away.

Quickly dulling sky blue eyes startled him, but the message in them was clear. For a moment, terror threatened to suffocate him, but then the fingers around his ankle tightened, and Aizen started talking, and he heard the wet coughing of his boyfriend. Ichigo didn't have much time. He knew that. And Gin wouldn't be far behind him now.

Still... The fair-haired teen covered half of his face with a hand, gathering himself, before sliding it away. Warm, sticky crimson blood was left behind, obscuring the left side of his face.

Pale, blood-soaked fingers reached, barely skimming the handle of the discarded weapon. It threatened to slip from his fingers, as both his own skin and the smooth handle were slick. He was able to hold it, though, and gently pulled his ankle from Ichigo in order to stand up. His knees felt like jell-o from all the anxiety, but his hand was surprisingly steady, and as he got the idea in his head, his face twisted into a large grin- quite similar to what a maniac would wear.

Though the ringing in his ears was still there- it had been blocking out the grating sound of Sosuke's voice- he could see the man's lips slow and then stop moving all together as he stared at his perfect little snow angel- clothes ruined; expression tainted in a way he'd never seen it; strange eyes glinting with a hit of insanity; wearing a mask of blood.

"Aizen." It came out as a reptilian hiss, sounding more like a snake due to the distortion of Shiro's voice.

It made the brunette shiver, though he tried to school his expression.

Before he could form a thought of defense, the beast that his Hichigo had become flew at him. Surprisingly, the knife's was not aimed at him. The skin of his face stung as a bloody palm slapped over it, sending him flying back into the dirty brick wall. His vision swam, and he'd just started slipping towards the ground when nails dug into the skin of his neck. An angry hand wrapped around his throat and drug him back up, his back scraping against the rough surface behind him.

When did Hichigo get so strong...?

Despite his pride, Sosuke's fingers scrabbled at his love's hand, trying to pry it away from his throat. His oxygen supply was quickly diminishing. His lungs were already screeching for more air. His toes, which had left the ground upon being dragged back up, twitched. His muscles jerked.

And yet, those merciless, yellow on black eyes simply glared at him. There were many things visible in those windows; disgust, anger, a little terror, the insanity, and most surprisingly, pleasure. But there was no mercy.

Shiro was enjoying choking him, watching him squirm, and he couldn't quite say that he blamed the boy.

But there was one other thing there. Indecision. What was choice was he struggling with...?

Hichigo glared up at his prey, teeth bared and a snarl ripping all the way up his throat from the very pit of his stomach. More than anything, he wanted to end the bastard right here, but a part of him was keeping his hand from plunging the knife straight through the man's heart.

What would Ichigo think...? What would Renji have thought...? Could he survive another trial...?

But then his fingers started slipping free from the snake's neck, and without thinking, his free hand flew forward.

He felt flesh and muscle tear.

Once he started, his eyes widened, and he found that he couldn't stop. All the anger, the frustration, the mind-shattering depression came right to the surface, to fuel this one moment.

Tears streamed down his cheeks- cutting through the blood on the left side of his face- even as uncontrollable, shrieking laughter tore at his throat. Just as this simple, everyday kitchen knife reduced Sosuke's chest to ribbons.

He didn't know how many times he stabbed the bastard- his mind was gone, and everything blurred together; reality became surreal- but he'd just stopped breathing a few moments before a hand grabbed his wrist.

"Shiro, I think that's sufficient." A cool, calm voice from above stopped him.

When did he drop to his knees...?

His head tilted, eyes searching until they found sea green irises. But then the world went black and, despite attempts to catch and keep him upright, he fell face-forward.

This drove the knife in his chest deeper.

-xXx-

The light was too damn bright. A sliver of black sclera was visible for a moment before the lids closed again and squeezed together. To escape the light, he turned his head to the side, but that was just as searing. An irritated groan left his lips. Did his mom have to come in of a morning and open his curtains? That made the sun shine right on his face, and he hated that; she knew it.

It was a moment before he remembered that his mother hadn't opened his curtains to let in the morning sun since he was eight.

Another moment, and he registered the feeling of long fingers slowly running through his hair.

Mustering up all his courage, Hichigo forced his eyes open, much as the light hurt. It was coming from the sun, which was hanging high above in the sky. Fluffy white clouds floated lazily against their beautiful blue background. That was visible from looking up. If he looked forward, he could see sprawling fields of deep green grass; there were specks of other colors, and he assumed those were flowers of sorts. In the distance, there were impressive white buildings, most with golden roofs, and tall circular towers. The brown hill didn't catch his attention; the pure starkness of the buildings and towers blinding him too much.

Never had he seen colors so vivid...

Until he looked around again, to see who was sitting with him. The first thing to catch his attention was the flaming red ponytail; it was unruly at the top, with locks curling in spikes away from the rest, which dripped like a lazy waterfall from the band that held it all together, falling over his shoulders and slithering down his chest. Black ink lines were just barely visible underneath the mass of flames, and they peeked from below the dark purple band wrapped around the pale forehead.

Even with the long hair, the tattoos, and the obviously older features, the soul was unmistakeable.

"R-Renji?" Though he was ashamed to admit it, his voice croaked and cracked as he said the name.

Chocolate brown eyes turned from gazing out over the field to look at him; they were just as warm as he remembered them always being. The hand slid from his hair to rest on his cheek, and he melted at the touch. It had been so long since he'd felt that... But the palm was much more calloused than he remembered. He had to wonder why that was; Renji looked so peaceful and happy, and yet the condition of his skin suggested years of hard work.

If they were in Heaven... why was that?

"There's my Shiro, and his beautiful eyes."

Renji's voice was deeper than he remembered, too.

"Wh-where are we? What's going on? Why do you look so different? You were thirteen..."

"Shh. Slow down, sweetheart." To silence the snowy-haired teen, Renji leaned down to gently kiss his lips. "We're in Soul Society. It's where we go when we die. We come here, and we live. I've... gotten older, since I last saw you." he explained in a soft, soothing voice. The rough pads of his fingers slowly brushed across a pale, high cheekbone. "Aizen stabbed you... and I brought you back here." Carefully, he stood up, his billowing hakama rustling as he did so before settling around his legs. The toes of white socks peeked out from beneath the black uniform; from where he was laying, the newly arrived soul could see straw waraji on the other's feet. Hardly appropriate footwear.

Strong hands gripped his own, and when he looked up, he finally saw the long katana sheathed at his former boyfriend's side. His eyes widened at the sight, and he dazedly allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Even when he was on his feet, the hands didn't leave his own.

"My, my little Shiro. How you have grown." Those brown eyes appraised for a moment. "But, as much as I'd like to keep you here all to myself... It's not time for you to die yet."

"Bu-but Renji!" Hichigo interrupted, his eyes stinging. "I don't want to go back! I want to stay here! With you! I've missed you so much..."

"I know." The redhead brushed the back of his hand over the other's cheek, still holding tightly to the pale hand. "And I've missed you, too. Every time you talk to me, the sound of your voice just makes me want to come and take you away... Thank you, by the way... for not forgetting me..."

"Y-you've heard me speaking to you?"

"Of course I have. But that's besides the point. You can't stay here much longer. There are people in the World of the Living that need you. You've got to go back. To your family. … To Ichigo."

Shiro's eyes widened as he stared up at the taller teen that Renji had become. "... Ichigo..." Everything came slamming back. Ichigo. Laying on the ground, bleeding to death. Gin, in the same position. Aizen... What he had done to Aizen... "I-Ichigo's... alive?"

A bitter frown tugged at the redhead's lips, and he didn't answer for a moment. "I've... heard no word that he'd be coming here..." But then again, he rarely got the name of the souls that would be entering or exiting Soul Society. So there was really no way to know if Ichigo had survived the incident or not. Unless, of course, he went straight to the head captain and asked. But there wasn't nearly enough time for that.

It was enough, it seemed.

Hichigo squared his shoulders and set his jaw, nodding. "Then... take me back. And promise to wait for me here."

The small frown was replaced with a sweet half-smile; the cute one that Renji had always given him in the past. "I promise." he murmured, leaning down to kiss him one more time.

Shiro awoke to searing pain and dizzying suffocation.


End file.
